


Mirror Image

by beekudo



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, i miss them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:46:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 57,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26164345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beekudo/pseuds/beekudo
Summary: Soulmate AU - Vanessa's scars have never been wounds. At least not her own.
Relationships: Charity Dingle/Vanessa Woodfield
Comments: 163
Kudos: 202





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alright so I'm finally writing something again, it might be terrible, it might be great. Who knows? Give me a shout @bee_kudo

She’s eight when she first notices it. 

Her mother had specifically told her to be back inside by the time the street lamps came on, but she’d barely registered the dimming of the sky, too busy trying to kick herself higher and higher.

Her name had reverberated around the cul-de-sac and bounced off the red brick walls of their neighbours. That voice soon snapped her back to reality and she’d quickly let go of the clammy chains she’d been grasping in her fists. Badly misjudging just how far she’d managed to fly and before she could warn her legs, she was falling knee-first into the tarmac below. 

Now perched on the edge of the bath, she presses the warm flannel to her skin just like her mum had instructed. It stings a little but nothing compared to the tissue doused in antiseptic wash that was rubbed harshly against the graze to clean it. She risks peeling it back, just a fraction, enough to check if the bleeding has stopped. The coast is clear. She leans over to drop the soggy material into the sink and brushes over the small cuts as gently as she can.

Then, there it is. A small curved blotch of pale skin right on the bend of her kneecap. It’s a centimetre or so away from the raw grazes she’s tending to, ever so slightly puckered around the edges and so tiny she’s hardly surprised she’d missed it. 

It looks like a scar, as if she’d got a piece of gravel wedged into the skin when she fell. But the skin isn’t broken, it’s perfectly intact and soft to the touch. A throb above her brows makes her realise she’s frowning in her concentration and she presses a thumb between them instead as she racks her brain trying to remember a fall, a knock, anything that could explain this new mark.

“Vanessa! Bring that flannel down for the wash when you’re finished, we can’t have it laying about sodden like that.” Her shoulders hitch up in automatic tension but her eyes stay glued to her leg. 

Coming up blank, she huffs out a sigh and rolls her scuffed jeans back until they fall loosely around her ankles again. Probably knocked it at school, she thinks. 

“Coming!”

A few days later and Vanessa has barely given it a second thought. Her mind focused instead on whether or not Tanya Carpenter is stealing her smelly gel pens and which coloured paper to use for her project on the Victorians.

The scar has faded just as quickly as the memory of it.

\-----------------------

By the time the fifth mark has made an appearance, Vanessa is almost twelve. 

What started as a small line on her cheekbone has rapidly spread to almost two inches, never splitting the smooth skin it travels across, only widening slightly before gradually fading in colour. No matter how hard she scrubs her face in the morning, or how much of her mum’s concealer she borrows, by the time the sun sets the scar is still there. 

After a few days, she finds herself trying even harder than normal to forget about the scar. It’s not fading as quickly as the others had.

There had been the uneven dash on her forehead, half hidden by her eyebrow, that appeared almost sixth months after the grazes on her knee had healed. Fading to nothing in less than a week, leading Vanessa to believe she’d imagined it. 

The wide groove between her thumb and index finger that had appeared overnight just before her tenth birthday. Like someone had taken a chunk out of her. She’d opened every card and every gift at break-neck speed in order to avoid catching it in her gaze. Her mother had berated her once the last straggler had shut the front door behind them. How ungrateful. How selfish. How embarrassing. That had taken a week.

She’d earned another scolding for the fourth. Two matching scores just below her ear, about an inch apart and long enough across her neck to be clearly visible under her shoulder length hair. 

“How many times have I told you not to go through my things without asking?” her mum had practically thrown her empty plate into the sink, her clipped tone matching the snap of the tupperware lids as they were unceremoniously shoved into her school bag. 

“I haven’t touched anything!” she dared round the kitchen unit, choosing instead to wait behind her chair at the breakfast table, slipping her feet into squeaky leather shoes.

“Oh Vanessa spare me, will you? Straight hair isn’t going to help you make friends, and now look what a mess you’ve made.” She’d thrust the bag into Vanessa’s arms, twisting her round by the shoulder and marched her towards the door. “What are people going to think of me sending you in like this on your first day?”

“I didn’t use y-” she’d tried to protest.

“Enough! Out, before you miss the bus.”

She’d pulled her hair as far forward as she could manage, trying her best to create a curtain to hide the marks. The girl who had swung into the seat next to her still noticed, immediately brightening at the sight.

“I’ve done the same with my sister’s.” She lifts a finger and points gingerly at the obvious lines peeking out above her collar “Gets easier the more you do it.”

She hadn’t had the confidence to admit the truth, to open up that can of worms on the day she was supposed to become Vanessa Woodfield, Year 7, tons of new mates.

But the fifth, the fifth changes everything. 

It’s been a week and it’s still there, unchanged. And now she’s in the girls’ bathroom, her mum’s mascara smudged underneath her lashes and her bloodshot eyes leaking one tear after another. It was stupid, so unbelievably stupid. Two idiot boys swinging back in their chairs, loud whispers of cruel names and balls of paper thrown at her back. She’d been daft enough to pick one up and unfold it ‘ _Does Miss know your daddy hits you?_ ’

She wanted to turn and shut them down. Wanted to spin in her seat and tell them that she actually didn’t know her dad. That the scar wasn’t from a cut. That the scar wasn’t even _hers_. She really wanted to. Instead she’d made her pathetic excuses and fled to the loos.

She turns both taps, trying to get the water to run at least lukewarm before splashing it across her cheeks and rubbing until her arms ache. After a few minutes she turns them back, bracing herself against the sink before she glances up to face herself. It’s still there, of course it is. Only now at least most of the mascara has gone. She feels her face begin to crumple at the sight, frustration building up to the brim in her chest.

A weak sob gets caught in her throat when the door creaks open. She recognises the girl but only just, the whirlwind of their first year means she can just about remember crossing paths with her during a P.E lesson. She brings the sleeves down on her jumper and swipes uselessly at the tear tracks on her cheeks. By the time she’s looking back at her reflection, the new face is already assessing her.

“Are you okay?” Her eyes are sympathetic, friendly at least.

She nods gently and the girl turns back, dipping into one of the cubicles for a second and reappearing with a stack of loo roll in one hand. It’s offered out to her with a persistent hand and she takes it, mumbling a _thank you_ before dabbing at the splotches of residual black.

“How did you do that?” The question causes her to stiffen slightly and she prepares her usual bluff. But her eyes are sore, and her shoulders feel heavy. She’s tired.

“I didn’t...I don’t think...I don’t really know. It’s just there.” She leans down and presses a foot gently on the pedal opening the bin, throwing in the tissue and letting it fall closed again with a clang. 

“It’ll be gone soon. Then maybe everyone will leave me alone.”

The girl looks startled for a second and slowly turns to regard Vanessa face on, encouraging her to breath deeply and turn to meet her. She isn’t frowning like Vanessa expects, she’s got a knowing smile on her face and doesn’t leave Vanessa any time to question it. 

“You know, there’s this old wives’ tale about scars. My mum told me once when I cut my foot open on a camping trip.” She leans back against the sink and glances towards the ceiling before she carries on. 

“She said now, someone, somewhere, would have a scar just like mine and that it would connect us forever. We’d probably never meet and their scar would disappear soon, but for a while, someone out there might have the same dodgy white line as me.”

Vanessa’s breath gets stuck somewhere in her chest. 

“I reckon she was just trying to make me feel better, it worked for a while to be fair. She’s always believed in that soulmate rubbish though, me poor dad’s never had a scar in his life…” 

She giggles and Vanessa manages to crack a smile despite the feeling of dread sunken in her stomach. The girl’s eyes are still kind when she looks up, head tilted as she waits for Vanessa’s reaction.

“What so I’ve got this because my _soulmate’s_ cut his face?” and his knee...and his eye...and his neck. She shakes her head, wincing at the crack in her voice and trying to replicate the easy posture of her new friend. “Clumsy lad this imaginary soulmate.”

“Well…” she makes a face, clearly she’s not as believing as her mum, “I doubt it’s true. My mum takes little stones in her pockets wherever she goes and all, hard to take her seriously.”

Vanessa mirrors her quiet laughter and allows the conversation to die out, picking nervously at her nails and tucking her hair back behind her ears.

“Look, don’t worry about it yeah? Like you said, it’ll be gone soon.”

She can only nod and smile in gratitude as the girl lifts her hand in a wave and slopes out. The creak of the heavy door echoes around the empty stalls and sets Vanessa’s nerves back on edge. 

She tries to picture someone else. The scars she knows, as real, open wounds, the pain and impatience waiting for them to properly heal. Actual, permanent scars. She feels awful. If it’s true then she’s had hardly anything to complain about. If it’s true...then she could have a _soulmate_. The stuff of crappy rom-coms and fairytales.

She tries to picture him, whoever he is, hurting and frustrated. But she finds herself shaking her head vigorously to rid her brain of the image it’s conjured up. Somehow she thinks the idea that these flaws are just coincidental, accidents, is an easier pill to swallow than the idea of him. Surely if it were true, if he was her “ _soulmate”_ , some sort of weird click would have happened, everything slotting together. Her heart would burst or she’d feel enlightened...not sick to her stomach. It would feel right.

She flattens down the non-existent creases in her skirt and inhales sharply through her nose. Her rubber soles against the cheap lino is the only sound filling the corridor. The only thought filling her mind is that whoever he is, if there _is_ someone with those scars she knows so well, she hopes he’s okay. Truly. She does.

\-----------------------

Her year had been going well, given how she’d started out. Once the scar had faded, she’d kept her head down and those pre-pubescent boys who had tried to make her life hell, they’d eventually become bored of her. She’d made friends. The kind who would save her a seat next to them during lunch, or pass daft notes to her in class. Small things, things that meant more to her than Vanessa could ever let on.

She’s done well, she’s almost a fully fledged teenager and she’s not paralysed with fear. It’s progress.

Or it was.

They all appear at once. Jagged and silver, trailing out from underneath the band of her underwear and stopping at her bellybutton. They span the entire width of her waist and her finger shakes violently as she grazes over them one by one.

The bathroom mirror is coated in condensation as the steam from her shower gradually lifts. It’s stifling in the room yet she trembles. She doesn’t understand. She knew this kind of thing was coming but not now, not yet. She hasn’t even moved into actual bras, still sporting the thin elastic ones that make her feel like a grown up and a child simultaneously. She hasn’t gained any weight, and as the boys in her form love to remind her, she hasn’t had any sudden growth spurts either. 

But they’re there and they’re violent.

“Oh for heaven’s sake Vanessa, you’re a growing girl. These things happen and you better get used to it.” She’s stood in the doorway to her mother’s bedroom, wrapped securely in a towel and shivering more so now due to the rapidly cooling droplets running down her back. 

Another drawer slams and she flinches, eyes just managing to follow her mother’s movements as she returns to the bed to fold another pair of lifeless slacks. 

“You’ll get them on your breasts when they come in, your hips when you grow a backside, god _forbid_ you have a child,” Cold. The kind that seeps into your bloodstream and works its way between the crevices in your bones until you’re sure you’ve gone deathly pale. A rapid flow of images pass through her mind, so quickly she can barely recognise what she’s seeing. 

The straighteners, that should have been her first warning. 

Her mother rambles on like a steam train and Vanessa leans heavily against the door frame in an attempt to steady herself.

“What will you do then, ey? I’ve got them right round to my bloody back from having you! But you know what we do, we slap some of that cocoa butter on it like they tell you on the telly and we get on with it.”

She registers her head moving in a nod when her mother shoos her, pushing her towards her own bedroom with freshly pressed school shirts in hand. And when the distinct click of her bedroom door shutting snaps her out of it, she dares to peel her towel away. 

She almost wants to recoil when she brushes against the longest one again, a slight indent, cool like the rest of her skin but she feels as though it burns her fingertips. But she can’t recoil, not anymore. Her hands move without her instruction, tracing each one in its entirety, a sting piercing behind her eyes.

At the fall of the first tear onto her bare leg, the towel is back around her and tucked so tightly under her armpits that it rubs painfully. If she dresses quickly enough maybe she can ignore the split in her chest, the sound of a baby crying out, the painful arch of someone else’s body as they go through one of life’s most significant motions. 

Maybe by the time she gets to school she will have forgotten about them, a faded memory along with the rest. 

That person on the other side of it all. 

_Her_ real scars. _Her._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanessa attempts to move on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not 100% about this one, trying to write just one chapter that spans a few years was harder than I thought. Hope you enjoy the update and thank you for all the lovely comments! :) x

They’re small yet consistent while she’s at secondary school, tiny white reminders of a tether that she can’t quite understand. Everytime she catches a glimpse of a mark poking out of a sleeve or across her collarbone whilst she changes, fear is the first emotion to surround her heart and form a fist. The fear of knowing who might be on the other side overwhelms her. She can’t even entertain her desire to picture  _ her  _ face, knowing she would zero in on eyes filled with painful memories that she hasn’t had to live through herself. 

It suffocates her, the unbearable knowledge, the weight of this secret she didn’t ask to be told. It seeps so deeply into her subconscious that she wakes at obscene hours, a patch of sweat where her back has been pressed to the sheets, the hideous stories of each scar playing throughout her sleep, different every time. Sometimes it’s a clumsy accident, sometimes it’s an adventure gone wrong, sometimes a beating. 

Those are the worst. 

No matter how close she seems, how much time she thinks she has, she’s always too late. She’s never heard her voice but she knows who it is crying out, waiting for her to intervene, pulling her from an assailant before they have time to carve in the marks she knows. Then she wakes, riddled with guilt and a heart rate so rapid that it scares her. 

A constant conflict rattles around in her head. An ardent curiosity for this person, this unknown entity with a life seemingly so far from her own, a blank face with the ability to pull at something deep in her gut. But the fear wins out, it always has. The panic that settles low every time she lingers on the idea that this could all be real. Her sheltered existence slotting in naturally with that of someone so apparently haunted. 

So she pushes it down. Everything. The wave of nausea every time she thinks of  _ her _ wounds, on her side, her back, her abdomen. Gradually Vanessa’s able to rid herself of the notion that she needs to help. To solve. That this is her problem too.  _ She’ll _ never know about Vanessa, she’ll carry on as she is, with whoever she has in her life, people who must know what she’s really going through. Surely. 

Maybe it’s for the best anyway, in the end. What help would she be if she can’t even face what’s on the other side. So she’ll try, she’ll accept them, and she’ll move on. She’ll forget.

\-----------------------

Vanessa’s eighteen when she moves to Leeds. She’s a fair distance from home now, leaving behind the floral bedsheets her mother had picked out and the beige on beige furnishings of their terraced home. She’d watched her mother drive away in their sensible Vovlo estate, suddenly void of all her worldly belongings, not even waving in her direction as she’d pulled out of the courtyard. 

Her room is a glorified cardboard box, but she’d made it her own. She has strings of fairy lights hung neatly across her pinboard, lamps dotted about to make it cosy and she’d even managed to get some simple prints at the freshers’ fair to pin up alongside her calendar and the student cinema schedule. It’s not much, but it’s hers, from the yellow pillowcases to the slippers tucked neatly under her desk. 

She’d made friends quickly, well,  _ a _ friend. Rhona had almost fallen up the stairs getting to a seat in their first lecture, but Vanessa’s reflexes had her grabbing at the back of her jacket before she could go tumbling down. Sensing her embarrassment, she’d gestured for Rhona to follow her into a row. By the end of the session they’d exchanged numbers with an agreement to grab coffee in the week, Vanessa had even managed to keep her excited squeal contained until she’d collapsed back onto her bed. 

The marks had begun to fade much quicker. She wakes with a new line around her wrist and by the time her cereal has congealed in the bottom of her bowl the following morning, the skin is pristine once again, freckles back to pride of place along her forearm. She doesn’t give herself the time to question them anymore, she’d given up trying to understand why and who a long time ago. She’d grown tired of the lurch she felt in her stomach every time a new one appeared and her mind would automatically fly to  _ her. _ Every time her thoughts would hone in on the cause of her scars it took a little more out of her, leaving her exhausted at sixteen and trying desperately to keep hold of the reins.

One scar hadn’t even felt like a wound. She couldn’t quite fathom how she knew but she did. Something had been broken.

Biology O-Level. Her surname leaving her towards the back of the room, nervously perched on a hellishly uncomfortable school chair. There must have been fifty or so other kids in the room, so she was grateful to be out of sight for most of them. It crossed her nose, a straight white line. She’d spent the entire exam trying to focus on the questions on the page without any joy. In place of the right equations and facts, were flashing images of someone being punched. Twice, three times. Unconscious. Silent tears and excruciating pain. 

After an hour, she’d shot out of her seat, drawing the attention of every single head in the room. She’d bolted from the hall and all but stumbled home, stopping once she’d reached her front gate, not quite sure how she was supposed to explain it to her mother. So instead, she’d wandered to the park and sat on the swings, and she’d cried. For hours.

She’d resat the exam a few weeks later and secured herself an A* ready for sixth form. Her mother had been none the wiser.

Eventually she’d drawn a line. She’d spent the majority of her best years thinking about, worrying about someone she didn’t know even existed. She’d come to university to start afresh, clean slate, somewhat clean skin, an opportunity to start again. Because  _ she _ didn’t exist. She couldn’t. If it was all true, if the myth she’d dragged with her from those bleak girls’ toilets all the way to a new city was true, then life would have brought them together by now. It couldn’t be that she was destined to watch her  _ soulmate  _ bleed, cry, shrivel away to nothing at the hands of others. 

It just simply wasn’t true.

\-----------------------

She finally gets her own on one of their more disastrous nights out. 

It’s one of the bar crawls she’d spent all of their first term avoiding. Posters plastered outside every building, on the doors to the lecture theatres, shoved into her hands while she was just trying to buy a sandwich at lunch. At least four copies lay crumpled in balls at the bottom of her bin when a knock sounds on her door.

She jerks back when the door swings open and she’s faced with yet another one. 

“Oh come on, we have to!” She snatches the poster down out of Rhona’s hand and a pleading face stares back at her. She doesn’t scrunch up this one, choosing instead to leave it on the edge of her desk while she wanders back over to her bed. 

“Um, I think you’ll find nobody _ has _ to drag themselves from dingy bar to dingy bar so they can get plastered and stick their tongue down some stranger’s throat.” She gestures towards her open laptop and raises an eyebrow. “The sensible among us will be spending this evening watching Cold Feet and shoving  _ chocolate _ down our throats instead.”

“Oh Ness come on…”

“Ah ah, sshh. No, my answer is no.” 

Rhona goes quiet and after a few seconds, just in her peripheral vision, Vanessa sees her lift something up between them. Her eyes flicker over and immediately she falls back against her pillows with a thud.

“Rhonaaaa..”

“I bought them earlier cos I thought it would be fun! We’ve never done a big night out!” The neon pink wristbands dangle from her fingers and she edges closer to where Vanessa is sprawled out. Vanessa opens one eye when she feels her friend lean against the bed frame and she reaches up to grab one of the offending items.

“If we go..” Rhona squeals “IF we go, Rhona. We stay together at all times and we go home as soon as one of us is too bored, too hammered or too close to shagging a random. Agreed?”

The wristband is replaced with an eagerly outstretched hand and they shake on it. A deal.

\-----------------------

The deal hasn’t gone to plan. Their group only managed three bars before deciding Leeds’ dodgiest club was a better idea and by the time that decision was made, Vanessa was three sheets to the wind and just happy to still be standing. 

After two vodka-lemonades and a dance/drunken wobble to some intense techno music, it’s two in the morning and they’ve retreated to the smoking area. Things aren’t much better out here. There’s a couple most definitely about to have sex in one corner, a huge crowd of people enveloped in clouds of smoke and at least four puddles of mystery liquid that Vanessa is trying her hardest not to focus on.

She’s leaning up against a wall, swaying ever so slightly back and forth through no fault of her own. Actually..entirely through a fault of her own, her own idiotic drunken fault. She breathes in sharply through her nose and out as slowly as she can, doing her best not to projectile vomit over Rhona’s brand new Doc Martens. A hand is rubbing in what she thinks are supposed to calming circles but instead it feels like her best friend is playing Pictionary between her shoulder blades.

“Think maybe we’ve hit our peak, no?” Rhona’s voice pierces the white noise filling her ears and she manages a weak nod in response. 

“Yep, yes we have.”

“There’s a taxi rank round the front, can probably get round without going back through if we try.” Rhona’s slurring but she’s holding up far better than Vanessa’s gradually depleting form.

Nothing sounds worse to Vanessa in that moment than twisting between sweaty, jumping bodies to get to the club’s front entrance, so she grabs Rhona’s hand and lets herself be led around the side of the building. The bassline pulsates around them, vibrating out of the club walls and only growing more intense as they near the front. It feels like the main road gets further away the more they walk but she looks up just long enough to spot the orange glow of a taxi light and she tugs hard on Rhona’s hand.

She doesn’t see the step. She can barely see a few metres ahead of her so she shouldn’t be surprised. But she also doesn’t see the rowdy group of lads causing chaos. Or the upturned glass bottle they’ve smashed on the ground below. Her ankle twists behind her and she’s falling, hands out to break her fall, but her legs go unprotected. This was not part of the deal. Definitely.

\-----------------------

By the time they’re at the hospital, the booze is wearing off and the pain in her leg is radiating out across her body. Her eyes are sore and itchy after crying and she’s fairly sure that the majority of her makeup has melted from her face. All Vanessa can think about in her tipsy haze is the fact that she hasn’t cried for over a year, not since her last nightmare. She’s stronger than that now, she can handle it. Anything. Or so she’d thought. 

They give her a numbing injection to pull the glass from her thigh but she still holds Rhona’s hand so tightly she can hear her whimper in pain. They hold each other’s gaze while a nurse sews stitches across the wound, neither of them brave enough to look. It’s over fairly quickly but the pressure brings tears to her eyes and she blinks rapidly to try and stop them from falling. She’d only ever been to hospital when she was very young and she’d had the measles, but nothing about her memories seemed to fit the image around her. 

The clinical smell clinging to everything, the sound of footsteps on cheap flooring, the apocalyptic feel to beds separated by thin curtains and nothing else. She has to do her best not to shiver in discomfort, she doesn’t want them to have to restart on her leg. The snip of scissors cuts into her thoughts just as her wandering eyes land on two women sharing a coffee at the nurses station opposite.

“Alright young lady, you’re set. You keep them clean and dry, come back in a few weeks and we’ll take them back out, or you can get your GP to do so if it’s easier.” Vanessa nods and waits while the nurse gives her another once over before narrowing her eyes at the both of them.

“And both of you, try not to drink yourselves stupid again. This kind of thing happens fairly frequently if you’re drinking as much as you two have been. University is only fun if you stay alive.” 

They both have the decency to look embarrassed and mumble their thanks while the nurse smirks and draws the curtains to close for Vanessa to change. 

“I really want to find a way to pin this on you but to be honest, I don’t have the energy.” She tugs at the zip on her dress and grunts when her right foot won’t slide into its shoe. When she glances back at Rhona, a sheepish smile has turned her lips upwards.

“Cuppa and horoscopes in bed? You can have my good blanket…”

Vanessa smiles back, not really wanting to draw out her friend’s guilt any longer. She’s made her own terrible decisions and now she gets to deal with the terrible consequences. At the very least she can deal with them whilst wrapped in a duvet, brew in hand and being told about her career prospects.

“Sure. Let’s go.”

\-----------------------

They’d convinced the taxi driver to duck into McDonalds on the way home so Rhona could buy them way too many chicken nuggets, chomping them lazily in the back seats, offering one his way as a gesture of thanks which he readily accepted. Halls had never looked so welcoming. Leaning heavily on Rhona’s shoulder and taking the steps one at a time, she’d eventually slumped down against the pillows, thigh aching with exertion. 

Rhona’s door creaks as it opens, slamming closed with a kick of her heel as she carries two steaming mugs into the room. She winces at the noise and stops in her tracks. They wait for a few seconds but hear no one yelling so she returns to her path and places the mugs on her bedside table before gesturing for Vanessa to budge up.

“Scoot your boot, I’m freezing.” She slides in, laying as gently as she can so as not to jostle the bed and passes a mug into Vanessa’s waiting hands. Vanessa hears the slide of the drawer as Rhona rustles around inside.

“Aha! Jackpot.”

A rolled up copy of the latest Mizz magazine grasped in her hands, she smiles widely back at her. The pages are gradually unfurled and they scan the contents together to find the horoscope page. She smiles gently when Rhona finds it but she’s growing tired, eyelids heavy and adrenaline crash sweeping over her.

“OOH Ness look, the boy you’ve got a  _ crush _ on is going to ask you out soon! Why don’t I know about this crush, bit rude actually. Didn’t need to go out to pull after all, ey?”

She chuckles but doesn’t have the energy to explain exactly why that horoscope is so far out of the realms of possibility, especially when she doesn’t have a full grasp on the reason herself. Rhona rambles on. 

“Well apparently, I’m going to go wild and get a piercing this week.” Her nose scrunches up in distaste and she scans the page with her finger. “Alright, so maybe we just go through all of them and pick the one we want, seems more fair.”

Vanessa laughs but replies softly, “Less of the point, but go ahead, why not?” 

Their mugs sat on the side, dregs of tea littering the bottom, they scoot down further and Vanessa pulls the blanket right up and under her chin. Rhona carries on, muttering something about seeing herself with an Aries, and Vanessa lets her mind drift.

There’s a fuzz in her mind and a throb in her leg and all she can think about is the eight stitches now curled into her skin, running a thumb gently over the bandage. For the briefest of moments, Vanessa even wonders if there’s a scar working its way into the paintwork of someone else. Whether that person will wake in the morning and trace a new white line, a scar on her thigh, one she can’t quite explain.

\-----------------------

Charity’s in the shower when she sees it, the soap rinsing away down the plughole to reveal something new beneath. If she was tense before, she’s rigid now. 

“What the fuck?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A year after Charity discovers a line across her leg, her path crosses with someone who seems to recognise her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my lordy lord this is another one where I don't know how I feel about it. It gets super angsty and I don't write a lot of angst. The next chapter will bring things together a bit more so if you are still with me after this one, thank you and we'll see you soon :) As always, let me know - Twitter: bee_kudo

It’s true she’d lost count after a while. More often than not, one would eventually heal over and she’d be given no time at all to feel thankful before a fresh one was engraved in her skin. She’d learnt not to look at them for too long, an easy reminder of her weakness, a crystal clear memory of the exact second her skin had broken. 

So she’d built up a strength that made her feel almost inhuman, some sort of barrier to the phantom pain she would experience just looking at them; she’d learnt to handle it. She didn’t need anymore reason for him to pity her, to look at her with those eyes that danced with amusement every time she curled into herself. 

There had been one exception, one reminder that could penetrate the walls. After the births, all she had worn were baggy jumpers and t-shirts that practically swallowed her whole. She’d stolen tubs of cocoa butter from the nearest Savers and lathered it over the lines, picturing the adverts she’d seen on the TV before her dad had thrown her to the wolves. It hadn’t worked the way it was supposed to, they’d faded but only slightly, their purple tinge eventually twisting into a silver. When she’d been on the streets after Debbie, they’d receded just enough for her to get away with crop tops and low-rise jean shorts. But the second time around hadn’t been so simple. 

They’d mostly remained in the same place, stretching out once again, darkening much faster this time around. But now she had him. He’d called her all the names under the sun,  _ that  _ wasn’t new. This was a different ammunition, physical evidence he could use to place more emphasis behind ‘ _ disgusting’, ‘used goods’, ‘slut’, ‘damaged’ _ . So when it was over, she couldn’t give him more material, not anymore. An end to the further reminders of what she’d lost. 

She’s been at the pub almost a year when she sees it. Maybe if she was still  _ there _ , she wouldn’t have given it a second glance. But her skin hadn’t been marked since, unless you count the occasional scrape cutting lemon wedges and a burn from making coffee whilst half asleep. 

The taps creak as she turns them and she reaches an arm out to whip her towel from the rail. She doesn’t bother wringing the water from her hair or rubbing her feet on the bathmat, instead shutting herself in her room, leaving wet footprints on the carpet and a patch slowly forming on her bedding. She shoves a hand under her bed, rummaging around until her fingers grasp familiar material. The giant band t-shirt had been the first unnecessary thing she’d bought with her own money, she had no idea who they were and it was at least three sizes too big but it was  _ hers. _

She pulls it over her head, stripping the towel from her damp frame at the same time. Crossing her legs she peers closer at the uneven white line across her thigh, her hair dark as wet strands fall into her line of vision. 

She strokes along it gently for a while, brows knitted together in confusion. The scar is perfect, the skin is smooth, no bruising or the violent red that normally surrounds her own. She knows she’s blocked out a lot of memories from her past but she  _ knows  _ her scars. She doesn’t  _ know _ this, even when the gentle touch of her finger over the surface makes her heart thump, she can’t make sense of it.

“Where have you come from?” she whispers, knowing full well she won’t get her answer.

Maybe Chas was right, maybe it was going to take her more time. She’d been sure she could move past it all, move into the pub and start the life she’d longed for for as long as she could remember. She was good at that, pushing everything down until it had nowhere left to go, but maybe it had to rear its ugly head somehow. 

She hadn’t talked about it with anyone but Chas, even within their conversations she’d drawn a line broaching certain subjects. Chas knew the basics, about Debbie thanks to Cain, and about what she’d had to do afterwards, how she’d survived. She knew she’d been kept by  _ him _ and that it was far from easy. The full extent? She couldn’t. She couldn’t try and get on with her life having a concerned set of eyes following her every move, judging her, pushing her to report things that she knew wouldn’t sway her way, watching for any miniscule break in the exterior she’d worked so hard to create. 

Maybe this  _ was _ hers, and he’d simply taken so much from her in that dingy flat that she’d learnt to believe everything was his.

\-----------------------

For almost four hours together, no yelling, both still alive, Vanessa and her mum have done well. She’d hoped that now she was officially out of her teenage years, her mother would have been a bit more relaxed around her, children having never been her strong suit. Alas, it seems she might be waiting a long time if  _ warmth _ is what she’s hoping for. 

“Lift them  _ gently _ Vanessa, you don’t have to get compost on every inch of the car.” Her mother gestures with a patronising hand as she picks up another of the geranium pots and slowly edges it towards the back corner of the boot. 

A day out of the house had seemed exactly what they needed. Vanessa was only home for a few days to visit from university, more to get her head out of her textbooks and her painfully numb arse out of the library’s uncomfortable chairs than to actually see her mum. Her exams actually mean something this summer and she'd thought the break might relieve some of her second year stress, well, she'd hoped. A few awkward meals at the dining table and several hours spent in front of ‘ _ Homes Under the Hammer _ ’ had been enough for her to suggest a day trip. Naturally her mother had declined the idea of a shopping spree and had instead announced she needed a visit to the garden centre.

She’d spent most of their morning there in the section filled with weird crime novels and books destined for the middle-aged woman, occasionally catching the cropped blonde hairdo of her mother bobbing between isles. Eventually she’d been recruited to help fill the trolley with crates of pastel flowers and ceramic plant pots, the guy at the till giving her a sympathetic look as her mum thrust one after another into her arms to place on the belt. 

She clips her seatbelt into its holder and sighs quietly as her mum starts up the engine.

“I’ll need your help getting these through the side gate when we’re home.” Staring straight ahead with a permanent look of impatience, her mother turns out of the car park. Vanessa can’t help but feel disappointed. It’s not like she’s  _ thoroughly  _ enjoying their day but she at least wanted them to get out of the house for longer than a few hours; her stomach is rumbling furiously and the thought of another afternoon on the barely dented pleather sofa fills her with dismay. 

They’re approaching a junction when she notices a brown road sign with a crossed knife and fork. She speaks so suddenly into the silence that she sees her mother flinch.

“I don’t know about you but my breakfast is definitely wearing off, fancy lunch? I’ll get it.” Her mother follows her finger pointing towards the sign and doesn’t say anything, instead flicking the indicator in the opposite direction to home with an unchanging expression. Vanessa tries not to let her victorious smile grow too wide. 

\-----------------

There are people littering the picnic tables in the beer garden but her mother heads inside before Vanessa can suggest lunch in the sun. She doesn’t look thrilled when they’re met by the familiar smells of a village pub but nevertheless she follows Vanessa over to a booth near one of the larger windows.

She silently thanks whatever gods are watching when she notices the food on other peoples’ plates looks more than edible. There’s the faint noise of a sixties’ pop song playing out of speakers  tucked away in the corner and the clinking of glasses near the bar relaxes her, reminding her of evening pints with Rhona at their local. 

She points up at the chalkboard on the back wall and reaches in her jeans pocket for her purse. “Let me know what you fancy and I’ll go order for us.” 

It’s easy to tell they’re in the countryside now. Flat caps and muddy boots line the bar and surrounding tables, all unkempt beards as they tuck into full plates. There’s a friendly looking brunette behind the bar passing change over the counter, smiling as she jokes with a man balanced precariously on the edge of his stool. The beams lining the walls and ceiling look worn and crooked but the shine on the ale taps suggest this place is well looked after.

“I’ll have the ploughman’s salad, I don’t doubt everything else will come with either chips or crisps.” Vanessa chooses to ignore the comment for her own sake and shuffles out of the booth towards the bar.

The barmaid eases back from where she’s resting on her elbows and smiles in her direction, Vanessa immediately feels at ease, probably for the first time since they left the house this morning. 

“You alright, love? What can I get you?” She reaches under the counter for a glass to pull Vanessa’s pint while she rattles off their food order. Beads of liquid spill over the sides of the glass as it’s placed on the mat in front of her, so she sips quietly at the foam while her mother’s lime and soda is poured opposite her. 

The woman leans her head towards the back of the bar and shouts as she pulls a bowl of lime wedges from the fridge, her voice easily carrying through to the hall behind.

“Marlon! Ploughman’s salad and a fish and chips!” She turns back to face Vanessa and her tone softens. “A mushy peas girl or a gravy girl?”

Vanessa accepts the second glass and smiles gratefully. “Oh please, we’re northern are we not? Gravy please.” Receiving a chuckle and a knowing wink, she rummages around in her purse for some notes while another shout is made through to the kitchen. 

When the food arrives, they eat in somewhat comfortable silence, preferring to let the bustle of the pub float around them. She watches her mother’s fork scrape around the plate with careful precision, the small ramekin of mayonnaise untouched. She looks down at her own plate and wonders how many judgements are passing through her mother’s mind as she clears her own dish. 

There’s a stark contrast to be drawn between her lives. Her life consumed by a constant desire to please a woman who had never truly liked her, and her life at university. She didn’t feel comfortable acknowledging it most days, but it was true that she almost forgot about her mum on the days she spent in and out of lectures. 

After two years away from her, of slowly chipping away at the shell her mother had encased her in, she’d stopped forcing it, that attempt at a blissful mother-daughter relationship. She would always make an effort because, unfortunately, it was just in her nature. The difference nowadays is that each time a cutting comment or displeased look is thrown her way, it doesn’t sink quite as far under her skin as before. 

She was never meant to be a mother; Vanessa understands that now. Each time her marks would appear, frightened and confused she may have been, but reassured she was not. It was just another reason to be reprimanded, another shower of disappointment in her mother’s tired eyes. It wasn’t until later that she realised that the lack of care caused her more pain than the scars themselves ever had.

She’s been mostly without them for almost two years. Save from her own, of course. 

She’d been relieved, for a while at least. She could begin to move on with her life, embrace the opportunity she had been given with university, start planning a life far away from the fear each one had brought with them.

But the thoughts had never left her, peeking through her memories every so often, slipping into her dreams. Never a face, never a name, yet always leaving her with that  _ feeling _ in her gut. A pull, she supposes. Like someone had her stomach on one end of a string and would tug just to remind her they were there. But however strong it made her heartbeat thud against her ribcage, she would simply get on with her days until the next time it appeared. 

A shout breaks her out of her reverie.

“Charity! Could do with a hand down here!” 

There’s quite a crowd at the bar now, the lunchtime rush having brought in at least ten or so men who seem to be more interested in a few beers than a good sandwich. She scans them for a while, nose wrinkling when she sees one ogling the barmaid as she leans into the fridges. It’s not difficult to see why she’s avoided them like the plague at all the uni bars and clubs. Her gaze is shifted when another figure steps in behind the bar. 

Vanessa takes what seems like a full minute to remember how to breathe.

The girl looks her age, wild blonde hair falling down her back and cheekbones only emphasised by the fake smile she gives her newest customers. It wouldn’t take a genius to know that she’d rather be anywhere else yet she moves around the bar with ease, pouring pint after pint, never staying in one spot long enough for the men to flirt or joke with her.

Suddenly, Vanessa doesn’t know why or how but she’s on her feet, her mother glancing up at her with confusion. She pauses for a second, struggling to reason her movement before leaning in and lifting the glass next to her mum’s plate.

“Another?” She doesn’t wait for a reply, sliding out of her seat and heading towards the bar. An oddly familiar feeling creeps along her spine as she catches another glimpse of blonde hair and she shoves it down before it takes hold. She’s at a disadvantage with her height, having to squeeze between bodies to reach the counter and wincing every time a heavy body stumbles sideways into her. 

She can see her properly now, fingers pulling gently at a pump, nail varnish black and chipped. There’s a lump forming in Vanessa’s throat that she tries desperately to swallow past, shaking her head as though that might help. The blonde is all angles, dark eyelashes and the veins in her hand makes Vanessa’s breathing pick up as she rakes it roughly through her waves. Despite the thundering at her pulse point, Vanessa’s tapping her foot anxiously hoping the girl will serve her next.

A pint glass is placed in front of one of the men, slender fingers wrapping around his offered fiver when he grabs her wrist. Vanessa can see her go stiff instantly.

“I’ve got a tenner in me wallet if you’re giving out kisses n all Charity.”

Something violent thuds in Vanessa’s chest as she watches the other barmaid. She remains unmoved for a few seconds but then he tugs on her arm a bit too harshly and it seems to snap something. The girl pulls her arm out of his grasp sharply and in the process, she catches it on his freshly poured pint. It topples back onto the bar top and smashes, froth pouring over the side and onto the floor below her feet.

In a last minute attempt to stop the remainder of the glass crashing to the ground, the blonde reaches her hand out to catch it. A sharp cry brings the entire pub to a standstill. A large shard of glass has wedged into her hand and there’s blood before Vanessa even blinks.

As the drops flow down the pale skin of her wrist, the pub erupts back into life. The brunette begins yelling at the group of men to back off, a gangly man appears from the back before mumbling something about a first aid kit and retracing his steps, the drunken crowd begin to stumble out and Vanessa feels a presence at her back. She thinks her mum is talking to her but she can’t seem to hear her properly.

Everything seems to blur into one noise as she watches her own upturned palm on the counter. The scar grows slowly across her skin, seemingly splitting it open from her ring finger to her thumb. She barely notices her hand shaking or the ragged gasp that leaves her lips as her mind works overtime to explain. 

Her eyes are hazy as she manages to glance up but they soon focus when her gaze is pierced by fierce green staring back at her. There it is. That tug in her stomach, the memories more explicit than ever before, her heartbeat deafening in her ears.

Questions, an explanation, any words at all fail to fall from her tongue and before she can begin to tie that face to her past, tight fingers wrap around her shoulder and she’s being pulled out into the street. They reach the car and she’s pushed down into the passenger seat, the engine revving to life before she’s even registered what’s happening.

Her mother’s knuckles are white as they grip the steering wheel and Vanessa watches bewildered as she silently seethes. She glances down at her hand, still cradled in the other. It’s jagged, two inches long and it is red raw. It aches. For the first time since she was eight years old,  _ it hurts. _

_ \-------------------- _

The front door is slammed shut as soon as Vanessa is across the threshold. It cuts through the fog in her mind and suddenly the words come easier than before. Her mother knows.

“What  _ is _ this?” She’s ignored, a body storming past as though she hasn’t spoken. “Mum, that girl cut her hand,  _ not _ me, you  _ saw  _ it.” Her voice grows louder. “What the hell _ is  _ this?!” 

They’ve ended up in the kitchen, her mother opening a cupboard to retrieve a box she recognises. Fabric strapping is placed on the kitchen counter while she reaches in again, bringing out a small box of paracetamol. She runs a glass under the tap while Vanessa tries to wrap her head around their situation.

“It  _ hurts  _ Mum! They’ve never hurt before, you know that.” Words echoing around bathroom stalls reappear at the forefront of her mind.

“That diamond scar on my knee. You said I’d probably fallen off my bike.” Anger burns in her throat as she gets no answer to her question.

“What about that line across my cheek? They bullied me  _ senseless  _ about that! I was  _ eleven _ mum, how the  _ hell _ would that have happened to me? Did you know it was her?”

Her voice is breaking now, she feels the need to cry. Her mother hates it when she cries. For the moment, she doesn’t have it in her to care.

“Did you know it’s always been  _ her _ ? Those stretch marks -”

That gets her attention. Finally.

“Of course it isn’t  _ her _ . Don’t be ridiculous. This isn’t for you to worry about Vanessa, this is a part of  _ life _ . And it means nothing.” Her eyes are threatening and Vanessa feels a fear in her chest that she hasn’t known for years. “You leave this  _ alone _ , do you understand me.”

“What do you mean it’s a part of life?” Her mother immediately moves to interrupt her. “No! What are you talking about mum? Do  _ you _ have them? Is this soulmate thing -”

“Vanessa, stop.” The word is spat.

“If it's her then does she really have  _ mine  _ after all ? My leg...” Her words are a whisper as she remembers vivid green. The pull she feels almost winds her now.

“That’s  _ enough! _ ” She’s silent, her mother’s shout frosting in the air around them.

“That  _ girl  _ has  _ nothing _ to do with you, do you understand me?” Her eyes are full of an emotion Vanessa has only ever seen in small doses. It looks an awful lot like hatred. 

“ _ Do you understand me?! _ ” She winces, fear hitching in her chest at the sheer volume. She nods minutely.

“You  _ forget _ her now. You go upstairs, you take these,” she thrust the tablets into Vanessa’s unmarked hand, “and you go to bed. Tomorrow you’ll be back in Leeds, a week from now  _ that  _ will be gone, and this will be  _ forgotten _ .”

She moves to open her mouth but dark eyes flicker to her own and she swallows back the words. Her mother moves past her into the hall and after a minute she hears a door slam somewhere, the walls of their house shifting slightly with the force on its old foundations. 

Her feet eventually move her towards the stairs and she takes them slowly as she tries to shake away the images battering her mind. The lines on her wrist, the burns on her neck, the baby... _ her  _ baby. Everything she’d pushed down, years of avoiding the thought of  _ her _ , the pain  _ she _ must have experienced, the resignation that she would never truly know why. Who.

Depositing the tablets on her bedside table, she slumps down onto her perfectly made bed and allows herself to turn her hand back up in her lap. The pull tightens at the sight of it; she thinks she knows where that pull leads now, exactly what it means. Too overwhelmed to make everything fit together, she lets the tears build until they blur her vision.

The first falls onto her newest scar. Their scar.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charity and Vanessa attempt to recover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I like this one a little better, I always prefer writing them when there's more dialogue. Anyway, thanks for reading you lovely lot, let me know what you think. Twitter: @bee_kudo.

There’s an old fashioned alarm clock ticking away somewhere near her head and she can’t help but feel like it’s just rubbing it in. She’s fairly sure it’s the pale pink one with fairies all over it, just another thing that reminds her this doesn’t feel like home anymore. It’s half five in the morning and she’s barely slept a wink. She must have exhausted herself crying at some point after they’d got home and she’d woken with a start around two, unsurprised her mother hadn’t bothered to get her for dinner.

Fiddling with the frayed edge of her top, she shucks the covers to the side, letting one leg embrace the cool and tilts her head to watch her old windchime move slightly in the draft from her window. No matter how hard she tries, she can’t calm the feeling in her chest, like she’s been holding her breath for hours. Her mind is racing from one thought to another and she can hardly keep up. 

_ I’ve met her. This person I’ve been convincing myself doesn’t even exist for years. This girl who’s had more scars than I thought was possible for one person. If that old wives’ tale is more factual than fiction, I’m supposed to understand her better than anyone else can.  _

How would she even go about trying to understand? 

Everything about this seems so inconceivable. Maybe her mother was right, she couldn’t be her  _ soulmate _ . Just an hour from her childhood home. A life so seemingly different from her own. A girl. She knows that’s why now, the reason behind the anger. _ Her. _ It was obvious when her mother must have cottoned on. She’d made even more of an effort to ignore the scars in the years that followed those stretch marks, a callous impatience and dismissal becoming the usual reaction to anything new. She’d understood the implications just like Vanessa had.

It doesn’t seem to matter which direction her thoughts take her in, she always circles back to the same set of emerald eyes. She doesn’t even remember the rest of her face, the blur of the day before throwing her off completely. She remembers thinking she was gorgeous but those eyes, they’d tunneled so far into her chest that she doesn’t think they’ll ever find their way back out. 

Her suitcase sits open in the corner of the room, most of her clothes neatly folded ready to head back to Leeds. The zip had broken on her old one a few weeks before she’d come back and she knew her mum would raise a brow at her when she picked her up from the station, so she’d ordered a classy looking one to avoid any huffs or looks.

A sigh itches its way up her throat and shudders at it leaves her lips. She can’t go back. Not yet. The idea of getting back on that train, shoving her nose in a book or gazing out of the window at the Yorkshire hills; it feels like a completely impossible task now that she knows. Now she’s seen her.

How is she supposed to sit in an eerily silent library and concentrate on page after page? How could she even begin to take in more information when her mind was so full of  _ her _ ? How could she sit in dank examination rooms and write coherent sentences all while knowing she may have missed her chance to find out?

Remembering that the floorboards on the right hand side of her bed creak, Vanessa swings her legs out to the left and tiptoes over to the suitcase. There’s a pile of clothes she’d set aside for her journey home and she contemplates for a second before pulling her dirty T-shirt over her head. She tries her best to change silently, grasping onto the edge of the chest of drawers when she loses balance on one leg. Doing up the fly on her jeans, she glances around the room to scan for her belongings. There’s a watch on the bedside table and a pair of socks balled up at the end of the bed.

She shoves them down into the corner of her case and risks a trip to the bathroom to find her toothbrush. It’s sat neatly next to her mother’s in the pot, looking out of place with its yellow handle amongst pristine white tiles. The brush on her desk is dragged haphazardly through her mess of hair and with one last look around, she pulls the zip closed. 

Her desk drawers are mostly empty but she’s successful when she finds an old notebook in the last one, there’s even one of those pens with tinsel on the end crammed in towards the back. It takes her a good while to figure out what it is she wants to say, how to say it. It’s only when she goes to chew on the end of the pen and gets a mouthful of shiny plastic that she puts pen to paper.

_ Dear Mum, _

_ I’ve gone back to Leeds. I figured that the best thing would be for me to move past things and focus on my exams, sooner rather than later. I’ll probably be on the train by the time you read this. I hope we can move on from what happened, no matter how much hurt it may have caused. I’ll see you when I’m back for the summer. _

_ Vanessa _

She folds the paper in two and once the bed is made to its usual standard, she leaves it resting on the pillow. There’s a sliver of light peeking out from the early morning sunrise and she reaches to pull the curtains fully open before turning and leaving the room behind.

Thankful for the thick carpet, she makes her way downstairs with no loud noises to accompany her. She shoves her feet in her trainers, knowing her mum would scold her for ignoring the shoe horn that hangs near the coat rack. Remembering that the handle doesn’t squeak unless opened quickly, Vanessa pushes down gently and inhales the scent of the dewy morning.

She doesn’t look back at the house, letting her suitcase trundle along behind her on the uneven pavement. The bus stop she reaches is exactly the same one she used to have to wait at for school and so she lifts herself up onto the garden wall of its nearest neighbour. The timetable shows the earliest bus is in twenty minutes and she allows herself to breathe slowly while she taps her feet against the brick. 

By the time the bus arrives, the sun has risen high enough for her to see some dog walkers appear from their comfortable cocoons, bedhead galore, being pulled along by eager puppies. The driver presses for the doors to open and she roots around in her pocket for some change.

“All the way to Hotten or stopping, love?”

“Just as far as Emmerdale, please.” 

\-----------------------

Charity had spent all night tossing and turning, sleep evading her thanks to the ache in her hand and the confusion in her mind. Everytime she closes her eyes the same scene plays out and the throbbing gets worse. She doesn’t understand.

Once that girl had been dragged from the pub and Chas had snapped her back to reality, she’d been bundled into the back room where Marlon had shoddily wrapped layer upon layer of gauze around the wound. Chas was in her ear, insistent that they should be driving her to A&E but she’d outright refused. The smell of hospitals alone was enough to set her on a downward spiral, she didn’t need a trip down her own hellish memory lane as well as a splitting pain. 

Once everyone had buggered off to take care of the pub, she’d been left to contemplate. 

It was only the gasp that had taken her attention away from the blood pouring across her skin. She’d watched the line spread like wildfire across a pale palm, pink and puckered like many of her own she’d seen before. She didn’t know her from Adam, she knew that much. But there’d been something in the blue of those eyes that she recognised. Something that tugged at each of her muscles, something that almost made her jump the counter and follow her out.

Her mother had told her all about them when she was young. How her soulmate would find her one day, matching marks, and they would know all of each other’s trials and tribulations. How they’d live out the rest of their lives in a harmony that no one else could touch. She’d looked up at her mum with glazed eyes and smiled like it was the best thing she’d ever heard.

That idea had been thrown so far out of the window by the time she’d met him that she was sure her mother had made it up. If someone out there knew each and every one of her scars then they would never want her. They would know her truths, they would see what he saw. In the end, the plights of the real world had only taught her to lose her faith. Never to count on happiness lasting too long. On what planet would she be lucky enough for the myth to apply?

Now she’s not so sure. That girl had looked at her with nothing but clarity. What seemed like fear at first glance had quickly morphed into understanding and she’d seen the scar with her own two eyes. She’d felt sucker punched, like  _ she _ had reached in and grabbed something, something that belonged to her now, not Charity.

Eventually she can’t stand it anymore, her mind nothing but a carousel of her inner turmoil. So she shoves her feet into her scuffed boots and slips out of her bedroom, noting the dim light shining down the staircase from the window signalling the early hour. She slides the chain out of its bolt and lets the morning air hit her cheeks. 

Setting off at a brisk pace, she heads towards the back of the village where the fields stretch on for miles. She’ll walk until the ache in her feet matches the one in her hand and all thoughts of blue eyes and flushed cheeks have left her mind.

She’s not hers to think about. Of course she isn’t.

\-----------------------

Vanessa doesn’t really know what she was expecting arriving in the village at daft o’clock. The tiny shop on the corner isn’t even open yet, let alone the pub. She’s hoisted herself up onto one of the picnic benches in the beer garden, suitcase sat idly next to her while she thinks of every possible reason to get back on the next bus and get back to Leeds. Her nails are bitten down to the quick after half an hour. As workers start to leave their cottages and the noise of engines drowns out the birds she’d been listening to, she taps her foot anxiously and shakes her head. This is ridiculous. What is she  _ doing? _

Her hand is placed atop the handle of the case ready to go when she hears footsteps approach. Risking a glance upwards, her world tilts a little.

It’s her. The same sharp jawline, the long hair knotted by the wind and the eyes she knows she could never forget even if she wanted to. The girl has stopped too, an expression of poorly hidden shock across her features, feet stuck to the tarmac.

Vanessa watches as she steels herself suddenly and her heart rate hammers against her chest as the blonde gets closer. She can just about see a bandage tied off around her wrist where it pokes out of her pocket.

“I know it’s five o’clock somewhere but we don’t serve until noon, sorry.”

Her voice catches Vanessa off guard, it's low and vibrates slowly along her spine but she can hear the hesitation underneath. She’s close but not looking in her direction, choosing instead to walk to a nearby table, straightening up a parasol that’s been tilted by the breeze. Vanessa clears her throat quietly but her voice still cracks slightly when she speaks.

“I was looking for you actually, rather than an early pint.” The girl’s hands stop their movement around the umbrella for a second and she seems to think about something before she opens her mouth again.

“Oh? Why’s that then?” 

Vanessa swallows past the nerves. “I wanted to check if you were okay, your hand, I mean. We left yesterday before I could ask.”

The hand covered in fabric is pulled out of the girl’s pocket briefly and she can see the hint of dried blood before it moves out of her view again. Shoulders rise in tension but the blonde turns, her eyes boring into Vanessa’s. She’s anticipated the breathless feeling that hits her stomach and so it’s much easier to hide the look of disturbance as it rolls through her. The voice is colder now.

“You of all people should know it’ll heal. I’ll be fine.”

She knows. 

Of course she knows. Of course she’d seen the scar work its way into her flesh like it belonged to her. But if she knows, then she must know why Vanessa is here, that she’s supposed to be her...

“Doesn’t turn out that badly, actually. Barely noticeable I’d say.” She finds her voice. Lifting the hand out in front of her she smooths a finger over the skin, smoother than it had been, redness having died down to a slight pink.

It drops back down to her lap and when she looks up again, the blonde is looking straight at her, like she’s weighing her up. It makes Vanessa’s skin crawl to be looked at in such a way by the very eyes she’s not stopped thinking about, a shiver following the gaze wherever it goes. 

When the eyes lift to meet Vanessa’s again, she watches something akin to defeat pass over them, the girl’s shoulders dropping an inch.

“Does it hurt?” Her voice is hoarse, almost small, and Vanessa tries her best to push down the fluttering of hope in her chest.

“No!” It comes out too loud and awkward, she draws her lips into a thin line and tries again, “No it doesn’t, it did, but not today.” 

She attempts a small smile, not getting one back, but there’s no deep set frown anymore and it settles something inside her. She can’t expect everything to fall into place, for this to seem as natural as everyone bangs on about in the films. Regardless of what they are to each other, really, all they know about each other is that this girl has been through things Vanessa can’t even begin to imagine, and all  _ she  _ knows is that Vanessa has seen it all. Every last mark on her otherwise flawless skin. 

“Did you get stitches?” She tries to sound nonchalant, anything to avoid making her more skittish. The blonde pulls the wounded hand out of her pocket and stares, eyebrows pulled together. 

“Uhh..no.” She shakes her head and looks up at Vanessa. “No, I didn’t go to the hospital. It’s fine.”

“You didn’t go to A&E?” Vanessa’s voice comes out bewildered but as soon as she sees the beginning of an eye roll she back tracks. “I meant, it just looked pretty deep...you must have…” she trails off, a huffed sigh of frustration replacing her words.

“Can I have a look?”

The girl looks at her like she’s insane, “You not got enough of a view in your own?” 

She seems to regret the tone immediately, taking a few steps closer to Vanessa’s perch in lieu of an apology. Vanessa tries again.

“I didn’t mean it like that, I just…wanted to see if I could help.”

She comes closer then, pinching at the safety pin holding the bandage together. Vanessa can tell she has no idea why she’s trusting her. It ignites the glimmer of hope in her chest that suggests the trust is instinct, one they didn’t know they had.

Once it’s unravelled, Vanessa has to hold back a hiss at the fierce gash across the skin. It’s bright red and it starts to bleed in places where the bandage had stuck and then been peeled away. She doesn’t come any closer but holds it out for Vanessa to see. She reaches out her own hand and gently lets her fingers tilt the hand from side to side.

She doesn’t miss the sharp intake of breath from the blonde and barely manages to suppress the shock that runs through her veins when skin meets skin. The glimmer of hope burns brighter, just enough so that the fear can’t shout above it.

“It’ll get infected like that, it needs closing properly..” the girl whips her hand away before she can focus on how it resembles her own scar.

“It’s not the first I’ve had to deal with, they heal..you know that.” She doesn’t move to replace the bandage so Vanessa takes a chance.

“I do, but just because they do eventually, it doesn’t mean you should have to put up with it.” She gets no reply but there’s no harsh look either. “Look, can you show me the first aid kit?”

A small chuckle erupts, it would make Vanessa smile if she didn’t know it was sarcastic. 

“Got a doctor in our midst have we?”

“A vet...in training anyway…” The laugh she gets is real this time and it’s followed by a groan as the girl turns her gaze to the sky.

“You were doing  _ such  _ a good job of avoiding offence til now and all!” 

Vanessa feels the colour seep into her cheeks but she’s never been one to back down. 

“Please, if you get the kit I can at least clean it properly, give it a chance.”

It’s quiet for a while, the only sound audible is the thudding beat in her ears. The anxiety in her body only heightens when a clatter opposite them makes them both flinch. The shop is opening up properly now, crates of fruit being brought out into the sunshine. This seems to push a decision, the girl jerking her head towards the door and chewing roughly at her bottom lip.

“Fine, but I’m not having the whole bloody village gawping.”

Vanessa follows her, almost falling flat on her face as she stumbles down from the bench. She hesitates, glancing at her suitcase before huffing and dragging it along behind her. The now open door leads her into a small hallway and it’s only the one adjacent door that hints to her where her companion might have gone. 

It’s a normal looking living room, a sofa with blankets draped over the side, a round kitchen table with a few discarded mugs, photos littered across the walls. None including the blonde. She’s in the kitchen, rattling around in the cupboard under the sink until she stands up with the box in hand.

She lifts it in her good hand, eyebrows raised and waiting. Vanessa gestures towards a kitchen chair and she flicks open the clips on the side of the case while the girl settles awkwardly into her seat, her back never meeting the wood.

She rummages around for a while and checks her surroundings until she spots a kitchen roll, lifting it from it’s holder and bringing it over. There’s an alcohol spray and she dampens a few pieces of the roll with it before moving towards her patient.

“This will sting, okay?” The blonde nods and grits her teeth in preparation. There’s an ache in Vanessa’s chest when a whimper escapes her lips at the pain. “Sorry.”

“S’alright.” 

She rubs some antiseptic cream around the edges and goes back to her search. She makes a little ‘ _ ha _ ’ of victory and brings out a box of butterfly closure strips, they look old and unopened but it’s the best she’s got.

She rips open the packaging with her teeth and holds the hand still while she presses the first one into place. There’s no twitch this time and she smiles to herself. 

“I’m Vanessa, by the way.” Her eyes don’t move from their focus on the plasters. She’s as gentle as she can manage but she knows this must be painful.

The voice is small again, wavering slightly, but she hears it. “Charity.”

They don’t talk for the remainder, her brain too occupied with the task at hand to linger on the shampoo she can smell or the soft pads of Charity’s fingertips against her palm. She knows her heart is somewhere in her throat but she’s determined. All these years, all the tears shed not just for herself, but for this girl she was so sure was a figment of her imagination. 

There’s no denying she’s terrified. Of so many things. Everything she knows Charity has been through. Everything she doesn’t. The marks she has no explanation for, and isn’t sure she wants one. The fact that this is possible. That something she’d managed to brush off year after year, too scared of the truth, is real. She’s real.  _ She _ . It all scares her. 

But when she glances at Charity’s face, eyelashes fanned across her cheeks, eyes closed to bear the pain, none of it matters as much as she’d thought. 

The familiar tug in her gut overpowers the fear as she scans her face. She needs to try. She’s reaching into the box for clean bandages when the silence is broken.

“I hate hospitals.” Her hands pause for a second but she tries to keep her breathing easy as she moves them again. She hums in response, hoping it urges Charity on.

“Nothing good ever happened to me in a hospital. I’ve always managed them on my own.” 

Vanessa curls the bandages around her hand, making sure she’s not pressing too hard, and waits for more. 

“Well,” it’s only a mumble, “you’ve seen it I guess. They’re never pretty, so what’s the point of making a fuss.”

Once she’s fastened the safety pin back in place she risks looking up. Her eyes are open now and Vanessa’s breath catches, she doesn’t think it would be possible to look at that green and not feel something every time.

“I have seen them. All of them, I think. I’m not here for you to tell me all their backstories Charity-”

“Good. Just because you know them doesn’t mean you know me, alright? You have no  _ idea  _ what my life’s been like.” The tension is back and Vanessa only has seconds to grasp at slender fingers before the hand is wrenched away again.

“I  _ know.”  _ She persists, “I’m not gonna pretend I understand it, or claim to.”

She waits for Charity to look up at her. She holds her own palm up to face the blonde, healed scar still taking up room on her skin. “You  _ know _ why I’m here, right?”

Eventually she nods. They’re quiet for a while and Vanessa tries not to let her heartbeat pick up when she realises Charity isn’t pulling her hand away anymore. When she does, Vanessa swallows the squeak of protest. 

She lifts her newly wrapped hand and points towards the suitcase standing next to the dresser. One perfectly carved brow raises in question. 

“You got somewhere to be?”

Her lips quirk up into a sad smile. “Just someo- somewhere to get away from.”

Thoughts fly back to her mother standing in her empty room, note balled up in an angry fist, Vanessa’s presence soon forgotten to make way for weekly book club and hanging the washing out. When the haze across her eyes clears, Charity is looking hesitantly at her. 

Whatever trace of concern was in her gaze is gone before Vanessa can acknowledge it. 

“Well, I’m opening and I’m a hand short -”

“I’d love to.” The voice in her head laughs tauntingly at her enthusiasm, she shakes her head and forces a calmer tone. “I’d be happy to help, if you’ll have me.”

When the blonde’s gaze turns upward, the look is apprehensive but the emotion behind it seems impossible to hide. Vanessa’s rib cage rattles in response. Charity looks down at Vanessa’s own hand, marred skin healed over, soon to match her own exactly. Their scar.

“Looks like I don’t much of a choice.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charity and Vanessa learn a bit more about one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Always end up remembering how much I adore these two when I write their dialogue. How we're supposed to wait MONTHS until they're both back is beyond me. Anyway, thank you for reading, you're all lush and very kind. Twitter: @bee_kudo.

Most of the time Vanessa’s sure she’s more of a hindrance than a help but Charity doesn’t seem to mind. She just about manages to lift an optic into its slot, only getting an eye roll when the top slips off slightly and dark rum spills out of the neck. After that, Charity leaves her to simpler things like stocking the fridges and shelves while she sorts the pumps, barrels and all manner of things Vanessa finds a bit intimidating. 

By the time they’re done, there’s only half an hour left until opening. She panics for a second that now they’re done, they won’t be able to find the right words with each other. But then Charity runs her hand through her hair and when she speaks, the sound of her voice feels new after the clinking of bottles and whirr of the glasswasher.

“I need to get changed, you alright here for a bit while I..” she gestures upstairs and Vanessa starts to nod. Her voice cracks at first from hours of disuse.

“Yeah, yeah course. Can’t break anything sitting still.” She smiles gently and there’s a new yet familiar flutter in her chest when the blonde’s lips quirk up on one side.

“Wouldn’t jinx yourself.”

Charity turns and wanders back through the hall towards a door that must lead to the upper floors. Vanessa leans to prop her elbows against the bar top and recalls the disasters of the day before. The scar on her hand doesn’t feel anywhere near as painful as it had yesterday. It aches slightly when she’s close to Charity but she doesn’t have the heart to tell her. The last thing she needs is guilt on top of everything else. It also might mean she starts to keep her distance; unease settles low in Vanessa’s stomach at that thought.

It feels oddly normal, to move around each other, occupying the same space and comfortable without words. Natural. Yet she can’t stop her mind from picturing her mother’s stern expression and the fury behind her eyes when insisting all of this was ridiculous. Made up. Vanessa’s own little pathetic fantasy. It’s true that when she thinks properly about the reality of their situation, her heartbeat thumps unsteadily with anxiety. 

She’d felt ill for weeks after that scar on her cheekbone had faded. The idea that there was a boy out there meant for her, marks on his skin spreading to her own, the fact that she would have to carry on with her life as normal knowing they could meet at any point. It had been easier to brush it off as legend then. She knew it wasn’t right.

It had become more difficult once the silver threads had worked their way across her abdomen.

The feeling was still there, only it wasn’t nausea anymore. It was a bizarre mix of pure fear that she could be _gay_ and a kind of stillness. Like her scales had been balanced, the cogs inside her slotting together. The fear had been the only thing that meant pushing it away was possible. That stillness. Push it far enough and she could believe that it didn’t exist. 

But now she knew her. Sort of. The contours of her cheeks and the low thrum of her voice. The fear was still there, lurking in the back of her mind, attempting to wrap spindly fingers neatly around her heart. But it was challenged now by the warmth that came with their interaction. A hollow voice could still be heard somewhere telling her that there was something wrong with this, but a glance at Charity seemed to quell it for a while.

There was only one reason she knew would explain it. She couldn’t let her mother’s words whittle it away to nothing. The anxiety couldn’t win out against this fervent desire to know everything about what they meant to one another.

When Charity returns, she’s in tight jeans and a sleeveless top with loose shoulders that makes her look like she’s about to either take apart a car or join a rock band. It makes a hard lump form in Vanessa’s throat and her pulse picks up. Their eyes meet for a second and she gets a hesitant grin before the barmaid grabs a nearby glass and pulls at one of the pumps. She places the pint wordlessly in front of Vanessa and rounds the bar to unlock the front doors. 

Vanessa lets her finger catch some of the condensation running down the side of the glass and sips at it slowly, for once not making an attempt to tamper down how the gesture makes her feel seen.

Slowly but surely, the lunchtime punters begin rolling in, mostly farmers like she’d seen yesterday who definitely fit the phrase ‘ _one of the regulars_ ’. They lift their hands to Charity and she nods knowingly, moving straight to whatever ale usually takes their fancy. Vanessa just watches her work, trying not to stare for too long to avoid the flush she gets each time they make eye contact. 

After an hour or so, her pint has been refilled and she’s almost half way through it when the brunette from yesterday appears from the back. She stops short when she sees Vanessa perched on a stool and her eyes dart between the two of them, a grin slowly breaking across her face. Charity turns from the till and glares at her until she schools her features into a slight smirk. 

A kind wink is thrown Vanessa’s way and she sends a shy smile back. The girl busies herself pulling a pint for another flat-capped bloke but when she speaks, Vanessa knows it’s aimed at her.

“You been offered any food yet, love?” She yelps suddenly when Charity immediately jabs an elbow into her side.

“Right you are, never mind.” She raises her eyebrows at Vanessa and she can’t help the chuckle that escapes. “I’ll just leave this menu here then, specials on the board.”

“Thank you.” She glances at Charity who looks anxious and immediately steps in front of her once the brunette has moved to serve someone else.

"Sorry,” she grumbles, “I just didn’t wanna assume you were staying. Or make you feel like you had to just cos of -” she lifts her bandaged hand and shrugs her shoulders. Vanessa fiddles with the edge of the menu and tries her best to show her understanding through her gaze.

“It’s fine, Charity, honestly. I don’t know _what_ I’m doing really, I didn’t think this far ahead. I’m supposed to be on a train to Leeds in..” she glances over to the clock above the bar, “half an hour.”

Charity startles slightly but doesn’t move away. “ _Leeds_? You’ll never make that now... why didn’t you say?”

She releases a sigh and rolls her eyes upwards, blinking at the swirling plaster above her.

“I think I knew I wasn’t going to be on that train as soon as I left this morning.”

Charity doesn’t push her for any more, but she can feel green eyes on her from where her fingers peel at the plastic, tracing a path right up to her cheeks. When she meets the gaze, she sighs again without meaning to. This time a sigh of relief, almost. The look doesn’t make her heart threaten to leap out of her chest, or her hands shake like she’d felt the day before. But something about the recognition and care behind Charity’s eyes eases the tension she’s been holding in her shoulders. 

“Chas is right, you should eat something.” It’s soft, only meant for her ears. “I know it’s warm out but Marlon’s soup is decent..”

Vanessa waits for a second, the unspoken question in her throat gulped back for fear of overstepping. Charity sees it anyway.

“ _Two_ bowls. Go sit, I’m due a break anyway.” She turns without giving Vanessa the chance to thank her so instead, she slides off the stool and edges her way into one of the booths closer to the bar. She purposefully sits with her back facing the one she’d been sat at with her mum just twenty-four hours ago. 

She reaches back into her pocket when she remembers her phone. She’d been blissfully unaware of it for so long she almost didn’t want to check. The screen flickers to life and a blurry message reads across the front. She’s got one missed call. Rhona. She shouldn’t be surprised that her mum hasn’t even tried to reach out but it doesn’t hurt any less.

The tug in her chest pulls her from her thoughts and her eyes automatically catch Charity’s as she carries two dishes over to the table, a salt and pepper tucked under each arm. Somehow she’s never noticed that happen with anyone else. 

“It’s hot, be careful.”

“It smells great, thanks.” She cracks salt over the top and pushes it towards Charity’s open hand before stirring it around for a while.

“That woman yesterday, she your mum?”

The question catches her off guard and the spoon pauses halfway to her mouth. 

“Yeah. An attempt at a nice day out, never really works with us though.” She brings it up again, appreciating the warm liquid as it moves through her body. She hadn’t realised how hungry she was until it lined her empty stomach.

“Yeah, she didn’t seem to want to stick around here, squeamish is she?” Charity rests her own spoon back in her bowl to fidget with the safety pin near her wrist. Vanessa reaches out without thinking, tucking the pin underneath a layer of bandage so she can’t accidentally jab herself. 

When she retracts her hand, she realises Charity’s staring at her with a small smirk. She inhales sharply. “Sorry, just...thought it might be irritating you.”

She thinks on the question for a minute, wondering how she can glaze over the situation with her mum, how she can avoid talking about the one thing that could drag this day down. When she notices Charity sipping her soup patiently, she resigns herself to the fact that hiding it is pointless. 

“She’s known for longer than I have, I think. Just never thought it would be confirmed in front of her very eyes.” She twirls the spoon around in the middle of the bowl, setting it down for a second and letting a huff of air out.

“Thought it was a boy, y’know? Assumed. Think we both did. Then I got the marks she couldn’t ignore, I was almost thirteen.” She waits on tenterhooks. Charity has stopped eating.

Her voice is low when she speaks, like the words pain her. 

“All the cocoa butter in the world couldn’t help me then.” There’s no laughter to follow. Vanessa watches her pick at the non-existent nails on her right hand, something shudders in her rib cage, like she can sense the blonde turning into herself again. She takes her chance.

“Charity?” Eyes immediately fly to her own and then they dart upwards for a second before returning, Vanessa can see her scolding her mind like she hadn’t even instructed them to move. 

“I don’t need to know, that’s not what I came here for, you know that already. I just..” she worries her lip, “I needed to see you, after yesterday. I’ve spent a _long_ time pretending you didn’t exist. For whose benefit, I don’t know. But there was always something there.”

Charity’s eyes glimmer, scoping out Vanessa’s face for any hint of a lie, any exaggeration, falsity. She must find none because she pushes her bowl to the side and leans her head in her hands. She groans and rubs her eyes for a moment, eventually pulling up to rest her chin in her palms. For the first time, Vanessa can’t seem to read her expression.

“So, you don’t feel the same way as your mum then? You didn’t just want to poke and prod to make sure I was real then run for the hills?” She scoffs lightly. “Cos I’ll tell you babe, you wouldn’t be the first.”

It cracks Vanessa’s heart somewhere, she can feel it like a pulled muscle. Her hands are shaky but she refuses to back away from the feeling. She’s ignored it for too long. Ignored who she could be.

She reaches back out and pulls at the bandage on Charity’s hand until she lets it fall to the table between them. She plays with its frayed end and tries not to focus on the way she can see Charity’s pulse move in her wrist.

“I used to, I was so tired of trying to understand how they made me feel, the scars. Especially once I knew who could be on the other side.” She wraps a finger around the loose fabric and holds tight as though trying to prevent the blonde from pulling away.

“But I had dreams. I could never get to you in time.” Charity tenses her fingers. “I was frightened of who I might’ve been, yeah, but that frightened me more, honestly. The idea that I had to watch you suffer, have a memory of it just ingrained in my skin for days, and there was nothing I could do.”

She lets out a deep breath and pulls her fingers back, squeezing the blonde’s own before she returns her hands to the bowl. 

“It was like a taunt. The possibility that the one person I was supposed to care for more than anything, anyone, I couldn’t reach. Couldn’t protect.”

Charity’s voice is hoarse. “Wasn’t your job, things happen for a reason, hey?” They catch eyes for a moment and the blonde offers her a weak smile.

“So _I_ don’t scare you? This,” she nods towards the scar on Vanessa’s palm, “it doesn’t scare you?”

It makes her laugh gently and she uses every nerve in her body to keep her gaze on green, determined not to shy away from this as she has for so long. Charity doesn’t pull away either, hesitance still lingering around her pupils.

“It terrifies me.” The blonde looks worried until Vanessa continues. “ _You_ terrify me. But after all this time, I think it’s more the kind of fear people get before they jump out of planes. The build up, knowing everything that could go wrong, but you also know what the reward could be if things go right.”

She’s said the wrong thing. She must have. Charity doesn’t move to reply, she just stares back at her with a completely bewildered look across her face. Somehow, Vanessa thinks no one has ever made this girl feel worth anything. Eventually her eyes turn slightly glassy and she sniffs once before coughing and flicking her curls out of her face. She stands quickly and Vanessa’s breath clogs in her throat thinking she’s made entirely the wrong move. Instead, the two bowls are swiped from their table and the blonde takes them over to place behind the bar.

“What’s in Leeds?”

Vanessa’s thrown for a second, only able to see Charity’s back but somehow honed in on the sound of her voice. She forgives the subject change, she knows a swerve when she sees one. 

“Uni. My dreaded final exams, actually.” Charity turns back, bringing with her two half pints of lager, foam to liquid ratio perfect - unsurprising. 

“And you don’t want to go back...why? Would think a vet needs to pass all their exams so they can stick tubes up dogs’ bums and wrestle with rabbits.” Her smirk is somehow devilish and Vanessa hopes the furious blush spreading across her cheeks is just attributed to her laughter.

“First of all, that’s not all we do! There are snakes and things in veterinary practice.” Charity makes an exaggerated _ooh_ and her dimples deepen with her grin. “Secondly, it’s not that I don’t want to go back, it just didn’t seem important at the time, not more important than this…”

The smirk turns to a soft smile and Vanessa’s heart thuds. Charity has froth on her upper lip and Vanessa has to sit firmly on her hands to ensure she doesn’t cross another boundary by thumbing it away.

“I feel honoured.” It doesn’t sound too sarcastic, even if it’s meant to be. “But surely now you’ve missed your train. You’re not going to make it back to Leeds til tomorrow earliest.”

“My exams aren’t for two weeks or so anyway, it’s not the end of the world. It was more so to limit the time with my _adoring_ mother.” Vanessa spins a beermat between her fingers and stops abruptly when she clocks onto the blatant question in Charity’s words.

“ _Shit._ I can’t go back to my mum’s.” She grounds the heel of her palm against her forehead and sighs loudly. “Way to think things through, Vanessa. Is there a B&B here where I could stay for tonight?”

Charity nods but doesn’t look certain. “Round the corner from the village shop, not expensive either.” She pulls her lower lip between her teeth and chews for a moment. Vanessa starts to get her purse out of her bag, beginning to worry she won’t have anywhere near enough cash. 

The blonde’s fingers shift over to rest on her wrist and she stops mid-rummage.

“Look, we’ve got a sofa. You might have to deal with a scatter cushion for a pillow but it’s comfortable. If you‘d rather not fork out.” Vanessa stammers in preparation to insist she couldn’t put them out. Her words don’t reach her lips.

“I think given who you are, you know, to me,” Charity’s eyes flicker to her own for a second when she speaks, “it would just go against everything to boot you out, surely. Should probably be offering you my bed n’ all.” 

Vanessa coughs, the image having caused some sort of spasm through her entire body. Charity’s expression is laced with amusement but her eyes are genuine. She still seems nervous, like she’s expecting rejection. It’s instinct for Vanessa to try and smooth away the small visible frown lines. She tries a reassuring smile.

“Not necessary,” the frown lines deepen instantly, “but the sofa would be appreciated, if you’re sure I’m not stepping on anyone’s toes.”

She feels calmer once the blonde smiles back, gesturing for Vanessa to follow her behind the bar.

“Our toes will be fine.” Vanessa follows her lead. “Just make yourself at home, there’s probably only rubbish on the telly but there’s tea in the cupboard and a stash of Dairy Milk behind the eggs in that one up there.” 

They’re back in the living area, her suitcase still stood untouched by the kitchen table. Charity’s pointing up towards a cupboard next to the sink and she lowers her voice as she turns back. “Don’t tell Chas though, otherwise you will most definitely be booted out, by me.”

Vanessa lets a laugh out before drawing a finger across to zip her lips shut. Charity’s eyes dim when she notices the time on the clock and Vanessa knows she’ll soon be left to the quiet.

“My break is almost over so I should get back before Chas hollers. Come get me if you need something, yeah?” Vanessa nods and she shivers when Charity gives her a once over before heading back towards the door. Her arm shoots out before the barmaid can get too far, wrapping cautious fingers around her bicep. 

“Charity?”

She turns back, gaze questioning.

“Thank you.”

A quirked lip and a wink is all she gets before the door closes gently and she’s left standing in the middle of the room. Blood warm and skin freckled with goosebumps. 

She exists. She’s real and unfathomably gorgeous and _okay_. She’s okay here. Safe. Vanessa looks at the scar across her palm, it’s smoothing out, just hints of pink around the edges now, but it won’t be long before it’s gone completely. 

So she strokes over it delicately with her thumb as a feeling of gratitude floods her system. These scars have represented pain and confusion, for both of them, years of unrest. Hurt. Yet, for the first time, she wishes she could keep one. Just this one. The one they both know is theirs.

\-----------------------

The phone is pressed between her shoulder and her ear while she picks up a wooden frame from its place under the mirror. There’s photos she’d missed the first time, a few dotted along the TV unit and one on the edge of the mantlepiece. Some of these _do_ feature a set of striking eyes and a now familiar half-smile. It eases her mind to think that Charity’s had a few better years, had people around her who aren’t just out to hurt her. 

She smiles at one in particular which has Charity sporting a jaunty birthday hat, looking decidedly pissed off about it while Chas has an arm around her shoulder. The frame is split in two, the second photo flaunting a colourful birthday cake and a much happier looking blonde blowing out candles. How many birthdays has she had like this? Vanessa decides it’s probably best she doesn’t linger on that thought for too long.

“What do you mean you’re not coming back til _tomorrow_? We were drowning our revision sorrows in the pub tonight, remember!” Rhona sounds thoroughly miffed but it does nothing to dislodge Vanessa’s grin.

“And we can still do that! Just not tonight, there’s not another train til mid-morning.”

She puts the photo down, wiping her sleeve across the fingerprints left on the glass. 

“Well, least you get another evening of home comforts.” Rhona sounds deflated.

She pauses for a moment, then it’s out before she can stop it.

“I’m not actually at home.” _Why_ ? Why on _earth_ would she say that? Twenty questions with Rhona is never a fun game. Idiot.

“What? Where are you? Who are you with? Why do you never tell me these things?” There’s a pause for breath just long enough for Vanessa to step in and salvage the conversation.

“I’m just staying in a local B&B, wanted a day of peace before reality kicked in.”

“Kicked us up the arse more like. So we move sorrow drowning to tomorrow night?” It’s more of a statement than a question but she humours her best friend.

“Course, same time. I’ll get the first round in.”

“Ahh, the true Angel of the North. See you tomorrow.” She rushes out a ‘ _see ya_ ’ before pressing the end button and collapsing back onto the sofa. She hates lying, especially to Rhona, but this is hers to understand, to explore, on her own terms.

The remote control is hidden under a pile of magazines on the coffee table and she gets a flash of white noise before the screen lights up with the image of Colin Firth dressed in frills. She checks the guide, obviously, _Pride and Prejudice_. 

She manages about an hour before getting bored, palms itchy, so she wanders through to the bar and sits atop her previous stool. Chas moves to serve her, seemingly aware of her reason for still being under their roof, but a glass of orange juice is placed in front of her before Chas can open her mouth. Charity turns back as though she’s done nothing and grabs a glass for someone’s gin and tonic. Chas looks at her, narrowing her eyes for a moment until Vanessa wriggles on her seat.

“Apparently she’s picked up telepathy overnight.” When she smiles, Vanessa allows herself to relax. She’s not exactly sure how everyone else is supposed to understand the situation, seeing as it took her the best part of twelve years.

She’s quite content to watch the two glide around the bar and just about keeps her heart rate neutral whenever Charity chooses to spend the lull in customers opposite her, relaying the latest village gossip she’s acquired. Vanessa’s not sure she keeps up with it all but she’s quite happy to listen anyway. Eventually people start to filter in for dinner and so she ambles back through, sharing a look with Charity so that the barmaid knows she’s alright.

It’s halfway through a wildlife documentary that Charity kicks the door open, a plate balanced in one hand and a drink in the other. Vanessa brings herself up from her slouched position and she’s fairly sure Charity catches her smoothing down her hair as she places everything down on the table. 

“Didn’t want you starving under my watch, not with Chas breathing down me neck.” Charity raises her hand to the back of her neck and rubs nervously. Vanessa barks out a laugh when she takes note of what she’s being served.

The plate is piled high, two different kinds of meat, potatoes, Yorkshires, so much veg she thinks it might turn her green and is that _crackling_?

“I think Chas can rest easy, although you both might struggle rolling me out of here tomorrow.” Her smile is a mile wide but when she looks up at Charity it falters, the girl looks hesitant.

“Sorry. Chas said you had the fish and chips yesterday but I didn’t know if you’d want it again, or if it would just remind you of...y’know.” She can sense the blonde is about to ramble and it seems so far from her confident exterior that Vanessa stops her before she can get carried away.

“Charity, it’s fine. Better than fine, it looks delicious.” Charity stops picking at her nails. “You’re right, twice in two days might have been a bit much-”

“Charity! That wasn’t an excuse to disappear and fawn over the poor girl! Table six want clearing away!” A yell from the corridor makes both of them jump. Charity glares back at the door as if hoping she can burn holes in Chas’ temples through the wall. It makes Vanessa grin and she whispers a ‘ _go_ ’ when Charity looks back at her apologetically. 

She chooses to ignore the impressed yet slightly baffled look she gets when Charity comes to collect her _empty_ plate half an hour later, simply mumbling a thank you as it’s exchanged for a duvet. She’s too asleep to notice the next time the blonde is in the room, dead on her feet at the end of her shift. Too asleep to notice the shaky finger that tucks a wayward bit of hair behind her ear and the quiet voice whispering a goodnight. 

\-----------------------

Vanessa wakes to the dark, her eyes blinking furiously as she tries to adjust to the low light. Her neck cricks when she tries to move up and a low groan leaves her throat at the pain it radiates. Something in her peripheral vision moves at the noise and suddenly she can see everything clearly.

Charity’s bundled up in an armchair, legs hanging over the side, facing the window. She’s got a throw draped over her lower half and her hair looks like her hands have been running through it. Her head is tilted in Vanessa’s direction now, one hand pressed firmly to her chest.

“Christ, thought you were deep in the land of nod.” The voice is more of a croak and she’s too far away to be certain but Vanessa thinks she can see a glassy look in her eyes. She still smiles softly at her. 

“Time s’it?” 

By the look of the strip of sky she can see from her position, it’s still the middle of the night. Her mind clears from its haze of sleep and switches quickly to concern, surely Charity’s not naturally a night owl after busy shifts in the pub. 

“‘Bout half two I think. Couldn’t sleep.” 

Vanessa sits up properly against the arm of the sofa and pulls her t-shirt down from where it’s risen in her sleep. She watches Charity for a while, the blonde having shifted her gaze back to the window. There’s not much light coming through the gap in the curtains but there’s enough to illuminate the side of her face. Something vibrates in Vanessa’s chest at the sight of her; the unkempt curls, the bare shoulder she can see poking out of the top she’s wearing, the shadow underneath her jaw making it look even sharper than it is. 

Her heart hammers at the reminder echoing in her head that this person is supposed to be _hers_. 

She hopes her face has morphed into something more normal than her dopey stare when Charity eventually looks her way. 

“You make a habit of watching people sleep?” She grins in the hope that the joke will be taken as such, feeling a swell of victory when Charity lets out a gruff laugh.

“You mean watching someone dribble and snore into our nice new sofa cushions?” There’s something wicked in her eyes but it’s much more gentle than Vanessa’s expecting. She’s glad for the dark when a furious blush colours her cheeks.

“Oh you liar, I don’t snore.”

Charity just raises a brow at her but an easy smile has her nerves settled. They sit in silence for a while, the sound welcome after a day of bustling background noise. Something about the darkness makes her brave, like the night is safer, when everyone else is sleeping. 

“How long have you been here?”

“Almost two years.” The answer comes easily, Vanessa tries not to think about how the blonde could be keeping track for reassurance. Her old life behind her now.

She traces back, mind too sleepy to line up the relevant dates, marks, emotions. When Charity’s voice interrupts, all semblance of sense scrambles in her brain again. 

“Guessing you haven’t had any since? Not unless you’re two timing me.” She knows it’s a joke from the smirk across the blonde’s face but Vanessa’s pulse still quickens. “Except maybe this bastard,” Charity lifts the tip of her ring finger up to the light, squinting at something, “got it slicing lemon wedges. To be fair, I _may_ have been a few pints in myself…”

She rolls her eyes at herself and Vanessa chuckles. “Yeah, I did notice it but I just assumed I’d cut it in the lab somehow, scalpels and all that. Hadn’t had one in a while so I figured they’d stopped.”

She waits for a second, basking in the quiet.

“But no. Nothing else. No _one_ else. Only yours.” 

As soon as they make eye contact, Vanessa’s heart is in her throat. No one has ever looked at her quite like that. Like she’s the only person to exist, the only one that matters. Into her rather than at her. It sets everything on edge, all the downy hair on her arms sticking up in reaction, her hands trembling lightly where they rest on top of the covers. She can see Charity visibly swallow before her words come out low.

“Lucky me.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanessa heads back to university...reluctantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a rough work week but my GOD did Charitydale help. Anyway, here is my update with our soft idiots being even more soft and idiotic. Let me know, as usual @bee_kudo on Twitter :)

She hates this. Exactly what  _ ‘this _ ’ is she can’t quite put her finger on. Whether it’s the fact that Vanessa has to leave her in a few hours, or the pit of dread in her stomach whenever she remembers that she’s going. This isn’t Charity. Getting so bloody attached to someone that it feels like the world is threatening to take away her arm or her leg. Getting attached in less than forty eight hours. Getting attached full stop, now she thinks about it. 

She’d always learnt that it was better to keep her walls up. Brick by brick, layer by layer until she had her own set of bespoke armour. As long as those walls were up, no one could chip away at her.

It’s not like that tactic had always worked wonders though.  _ He  _ still reduced her to a cowering wreck with his spiteful words. Made her believe she wasn’t the fierce, independent girl she’d so desperately wanted to be. The kickass, courageous superhero she’d dreamed of being during her childhood. Back before her life had eventually festered into a steaming pile of shit. 

But at least if she kept them stacked high enough around her heart once she was free of him, free of that life, maybe it wouldn’t happen again. 

She hadn’t anticipated having them torn down by someone who just wanted to see her better.

Vanessa knows more about her shame that anyone else; maybe has even more reason to steer clear of her because of it. In fact, she definitely has more reason. She doesn’t know  _ exactly _ how Charity got each vile and vindictive mark, the situations she was in; all except the obvious ones. The ones she thought would lower the opinion of anyone who saw them, no matter how low that opinion already was. Vanessa has all the more reason to run, to leg it back over each and every hill in the Dales and never look back.

But she did come back. She came back and looked at Charity like she was  _ everything _ . 

Part of her feels guilty, that of all people, Vanessa has been laboured with  _ her  _ for a soulmate. She should have some incredible woman who can give her everything. All the wonderful things that she deserves. Not someone too tainted by her wretched past to be proud of, to adore. 

She could still find someone different. She’s only twenty, the most gorgeous thing Charity has ever seen, smart, eyes full of kindness...she’s everything anyone could want.

Except even after two days, the thought of Vanessa with someone else makes her feel like someone’s kicked her right in the gut. Suddenly and violently physically ill. 

She won’t say  _ heartbroken _ . She can’t.

Maybe Vanessa sees something she can’t. Either that or she’s slightly delusional. 

Whatever the reason, Charity may not deserve her, but she’s eternally grateful to whichever force got Vanessa on that bus yesterday.

“The pressure in that shower is so nice.” 

Charity hadn’t heard the door open. Vanessa’s hair is damp, quickly drying into soft, loose waves around her face. She’s got a yellow t-shirt on and light-wash jeans which fit her so well that Charity’s mouth goes dry. Around her shoulders is also one of Charity’s zip-up hoodies, black and worn at the sleeves. The drawstring had been lost years ago.

It makes her feel like she’s got pins and needles in her chest when she notices and the hairs along the back of her neck stand up. 

“That’s mine.” She sounds too quiet, like it’s a frightened question rather than an observation.

Vanessa looks embarrassed and seems to hold it tighter to her when she replies. Charity feels like she’s doing the same to her lungs.

“Yeah, is that okay?” Charity hates that she’s the one to make Vanessa look this panicked.”It was on the back of your door and it was a bit chillier this morning than I’d packed for.”

She manages to swallow to clear her throat and stands without knowing why.

“Course, yeah course.” She gives what she hopes is a smile, but it could easily be a grimace with the lack of control she has over her body now. “Suits you better anyway.”

Whatever it was, it works. Vanessa’s cheek colour in the most beautiful way and Charity has to look away when she sees her lift the material up to hide her smile, breathing in whatever is left of Charity’s perfume at the same time.

“Brew?” She moves to the kitchen to busy herself, already pulling mugs out of the cupboard so Vanessa can’t see her anxiously tapping on the counter top.

“Please.”

The scrape of a chair leg sounds behind her as she flicks the kettle to boil. She stares at the bubbles forming behind the plastic strip until her vision goes blurry. 

Vanessa’s leaving. She doesn’t want her to leave.  _ Really _ doesn’t want her to.

“Time’s your train?” She hopes she sounds easy breezy but she’s sure there was a waver in there somewhere.

“There’s one leaving at half eleven, so I’ll need to be on the bus around ten past if I want to make it.”

She doesn’t dwell on the thought too long but Vanessa’s voice sounds as disappointed as she feels. She glances towards the clock, ticking away in it’s mocking rhythm. Her stomach drops further when she sees that it’s already half nine. 

A click snatches her attention and she lifts the kettle, pouring until the tea bags float right to the surface. With no knowledgeable reason, she leaves more room in Vanessa’s than her own, adding milk until it goes almost white. She places it down on the table and looks almost as confused as Vanessa when their eyes meet.

“You know how I like my tea?”

She opens her mouth to explain, but finding nothing, she raises an eyebrow. 

“Apparently.”

A hum warms Vanessa’s throat as she sips and Charity feels it like someone’s tracing a finger down her spine. She opens the cupboard next to the oven and roots around for a while, eventually appearing with three boxes of various cereal, lining them up on the counter and resting a hand atop one of them.

“Marlon isn’t in until eleven so...we have cereal, cereal or cereal.” She scrunches her nose up slightly when she looks over at Vanessa. “Sorry.”

But she gets a small grin that prods at the anxiety until it ebbs away. “Cereal sounds great.”

Charity is normally happy to eat in relative silence, the air only filled with the sound of clinking spoons and Rice Krispies snapping, crackling, and popping. Yet, as soon as they’re sat opposite each other, a question flies out of her mouth and before she knows it, Vanessa is filling her in on her exams, what she’s nervous about, what she’s prepared for. 

She listens, genuinely listens. The desire to drown out the words until she’s merely nodding along doesn’t come like it does with everyone else. It looks like Vanessa is glad for it too, any remaining tension across her shoulder blades melting a little as their conversation wears on.

It’s only when she’s placing the bowls in the sink and catches a little hand far too close to the number eleven that she decides.

“Vanessa?” She leans back against the counter, watching as bright blue swivels to meet her, smile automatic and overwhelming.

“Hmm?”

“What do we do  _ now _ ?”

The smile straightens out slightly, eyebrows pinching together in thought as though they’d both assumed the day would pause until they were ready to carry on. Charity moves over to sit back in her chair, pulling it by the front until she’s sat only a few inches from Vanessa, the other girl sighing as though the move has made her lighter. Charity pushes on against her nerves.

“I know I haven’t told you a lot, not like you’ve done with me. I’m sorry for that.” She zeros in on a bleach spot on her own jeans, briefly thinking of the dodgy cleaning spray to blame. “But I’ve felt the most like myself than I have... maybe ever, since you barged in.”

There’s still silence but it only urges her on.

“I don’t think you deserve to get stuck with me, but selfishly, I’m sort of hoping you are anyway.”

Charity means to laugh to ease the atmosphere but it comes out as a scoff. She’s afraid to look up, like if she does, she’ll be faced with sympathy, an awkward smile ready to let her down gently. She knows Vanessa has done nothing to suggest she wants anyone else, only looked at her with eyes that make her heart defrost and her legs tingle. But Vanessa’s had time to think now. Alone.

As panic starts to seep into her bloodstream, she startles easily when a hand gently lifts her chin. She doesn’t move when she realises the hand is Vanessa’s and that the eyes looking back at her are soft.

“I’m not  _ stuck  _ with you.” Well… at least she’d expected it. “No one would ever be  _ stuck _ with you, Charity. I get to have you, I get to share these with you. It’s not a chore, it’s a bloody  _ godsend _ .”

Vanessa looks like she’s using every fibre of her being to get her words across, eyes slightly glassy and determined. Charity’s only aware she’s shaking when she sees the tremble in Vanessa’s arm where she still holds her jaw.

“But,” she glances down at her bandaged hand, thinking of the many marks that dirty her skin underneath her clothes, the memories that go with them, who she’s been, who she is. A gentle pull on her jaw brings her back, the eyes having lost none of their power.

“You’ve fought in your life Charity, to move through it, to keep it even, maybe. Why don’t you let me fight for a while?”

She can feel the welling, but she doesn’t want to blink, in case she opens her eyes and she’s back behind the bar serving pervy old codgers, not here with her very own miracle. Vanessa’s voice is no louder than a murmur.

“I’ve never been able to until now, to fight for you. Let me?” 

When she nods, an unwanted tear rolls down her cheek but a swift thumb gets rid of it before she can. Vanessa’s smiling, it’s soft and shy, but it’s bright. 

\-------------------------

Her phone chimes in her hand and it makes her jump a mile even though it’s exactly what she’s waiting for. She clicks to open the message and grins despite herself.

* _ This means you actually have to text me now.* _

She spins on her heel and catches Vanessa’s eye from the doorway, she’s pocketing her own phone and pulling the zip up on her suitcase, all with a smug smile plastered across her mouth. Her hair has dried fully now, textured waves framing her cheekbones and bouncing lightly on her shoulders as she moves around the room gathering the last of her things. The view is bittersweet.

“Cheeky mare, might just save the number under ‘ _ dribbly dwarf’ _ now..” 

An indignant “oi” sounds from the sofa and a crumpled ball is thrown at Charity’s chest. Her chuckle dies down when she realises it’s her hoodie. 

“Not to your taste all of a sudden?” She winces at the obvious hurt in her own voice. Vanessa was cold, now she’s not, the stupid thing is hers anyway.

“ _ No… _ ” she knows exactly what’s passed through Charity’s mind if her tone is anything to go by, “but it’s  _ yours _ . I figured you’d want it back?”

Charity stays still for a minute, holding the garment by the shoulders, baffled that it already smells more like Vanessa than herself. It’s ratty and there are strings of cotton unravelling from the hem but it looked  _ loved _ rather than just  _ old  _ on Vanessa. She chucks it back.

“I don’t wear it much anyway.” Vanessa raises an eyebrow at her to signal she doesn’t believe a word of it, but she slides her arms back in the sleeves without any argument.

The feeling returns, the one that sinks into her chest and sets like concrete. Really, she has no idea how this is going to play out. Vanessa is adamant this isn’t it, and she wants to believe her more than anything, but her luck has never stretched too far. She follows her through the hall and twists the key in the lock of the back door so it swings out into the breeze.

Vanessa crosses the threshold but Charity remains rooted to the ground. There’s not a bone in her body that wants to step out of this bubble. When Vanessa turns to look at her, she’s smiling but her eyes suggest she’s reluctant herself.

“So,” she hitches her shoulders higher as if to shake away the gloom, “I best go before I miss yet another train.”

Charity nods and keeps her arms folded protectively over her chest. The tug in her gut is back, stronger with Vanessa close. She narrows her eyes when Vanessa doesn’t move to step away, instead chewing her lip until Charity sees a spot of red appear.

“Are you working this weekend?” It’s unexpected but Vanessa looks so nervous she doesn’t question it.

“I’m the late shift Saturday and off Sunday, why?” 

“Well...I’ll probably need a change of scenery after four days in the library…” she waits a beat for Charity to catch on, but Charity just starts to grin.

“Oh  _ fine _ ...can I come back this weekend? I’ll be fed up with uni and the same four walls and frankly I think four days is too long anyway but I’m trying not to be a pain in-”

“Ness?” That stops her. “See you Saturday?”

Vanessa’s smile is contagious and Charity kicks herself for her sudden complete inability to keep her own emotions in check. She’s already  _ excited. _ It’s only made worse when Vanessa hikes herself up onto her toes and leans in to kiss Charity on the cheek.

Her nose is cold where it brushes her skin but her lips are warm and Charity goes stock-still. It’s not an electric shock like everyone says. It’s not like fireworks go off behind her eyes or butterflies erupt in her stomach. Instead, it’s like every nerve in her body tunes into the spot Vanessa kisses, flooding warmth from her cheek out to all her limbs, right down to her toes. The warmest points behind each and every one of her scars.

She knows she’s not the only one. Vanessa leans back with eyes wider than before and her voice sounds shaky. 

“See you Saturday.”

Charity can’t move, she’s not even sure if she’s smiling or frowning or looks as frozen to the spot as she feels. But Vanessa pulls up on the handle of her case and starts walking in the direction of the bus stop. She’s almost at the main road when a shout stops her. 

It takes a second for Charity to realise the shout has come from her own mouth.

“Wait!”

She’s not sure why she’s said it, she’s even more unsure of why her feet are moving. It’s only when she’s a few feet away that her mind catches up with the rest of her body. There’s no nervously stopping in front of her, no last minute chickening out, there’s just a hand that slides around Vanessa’s jaw and eyes that seek out any hint of rejection before she leans in.

The warmth all gathers in her chest then. When Vanessa releases a sigh and lets Charity pull her bottom lip between her own. It balls together behind her rib cage when she feels a hand grip at her hip bone and pull her closer, when a tongue runs along her own and she feels the whimper at the back of Vanessa’s throat. 

It’s gentle and overwhelming. Charity doesn’t understand how she can feel  _ everything _ at once. The feel of Vanessa’s hair between her fingers, the rise of goosebumps on her skin where Vanessa’s hand rests and the way their lips fit over and over, never becoming urgent or messy. 

She eases them slowly, begrudgingly, pecking Vanessa’s lips twice softly before letting their foreheads bump together.

Smooth fingers move from Charity’s side and brush at her wrist where it lingers near Vanessa’s neck, linking their hands for a minute before squeezing lightly. Charity has no idea how she finds her voice after that.

“You’ll text me when you’re back?”

Vanessa’s eyes are glazed over but she looks blissful. She squeezes their hands again. 

“I’ll text you when I’m back.”

\-----------------------------

_ *I vote you take a nap. Or just sack off the whole thing and come back.* _

Vanessa grins when the message opens in front of her. She’s leaning so far back in the library chair that she’s actually slightly worried she’ll topple backwards. But she’s so  _ bored _ , so mind-numbingly bored of going over the same notes again and again, just to make sure she could remember something off by heart if she needed to. 

Rhona has been sat hunched over her ring-binder with her fourth coffee for the past hour and has only banged her head against the table once. They’re doing well, considering. They’ve been there since eight this morning, third day on the trot, tucked away at their favourite desk on the second floor where no one can really see them but they’re still close enough to the cafe and the loos.

Their first exam is in ten days and Vanessa honestly doesn’t know if she can take in any more information. She’s always been prepared and she still is, only now she doesn’t really want to be wasting her time revising everything, she wants to be sat on a sofa, watching mindless crap, drinking weak tea with one person.

That person’s not here.

_ *I have less than twenty four hours until I’m on a train. Hardly like I’ve got to sit this out for another few days.* _

She’s only just put her phone back on the desk when it vibrates again.

_ *Who said that suggestion was for your benefit?* _

Her cheeks hurt right around her mouth; she’s been somewhat grinning like a madwoman over the past few days. Texting Charity wasn’t exactly the same as being around her but she’ll take this over silence any day. Most mornings Charity wasn’t awake until late and then by the time Vanessa was free, Charity was behind the bar, sneaking her messages whenever she had the chance.

Every time she thought about the blonde, her chest would fill and that familiar pull would move in her stomach. How had she expected this to be her imagination at one point, a placebo, a made up sensation tied to the idea that her person was out there?

The possibility that this had all been some pipe dream concocted out of her own misery and hope worried her sometimes. But then she’d get a text. 

_ *What kind of sadist delivers beer at six am?* _

_ *Chas says hi, she’s creeping on me again.* _

_ *Turns out it’s quite boring here without you bothering me.* _

And she’d remember the feel of Charity’s mouth on her own. The way her entire body had responded, her muscles relaxed and nerves on end where Charity’s hands had sunk into her hair. Suddenly it was all she’d known, all she would ever know. This incredible, resilient, tender person who had molded into any part of her that had ever felt empty. 

The scar on her hand is almost completely gone, but where a faint line still shows under her index finger, she rubs her thumb against it to bring her back to the pub, to settle herself.

“You’ve either completely given up, or you’ve been staring at your notes so long you’ve gone doolally.” 

Rhona’s hushed voice penetrates her thoughts and she meets her eyes, tired and decorated with heavy bags.

“Combination of both?” She replies, nodding when her best friend raises a brow in agreement.

“Likely.”

Rhona slumps back into her seat, brushing her fringe away from her forehead and huffing loudly. She lifts her coffee cup but it’s empty. 

“Thought your mum did your head in anyway, why would you go there for a break? Again?”

Vanessa can’t lie. To save her life. She once told a teacher that the bus driver had accidentally  _ run over  _ her gym bag, when really it was hanging on the back of her bedroom door. Safe to say she was digging through lost and found for matching trainers a few minutes later.

The second she tries to think of a reason, she feels heat creeping up her neck into her cheeks. Rhona beats her to it.

“I  _ knew _ it.” She claps, disregarding the stern looks she gets from students around them. “Where did you stay? Who is he? If you were actually still in Leeds that whole time I  _ will _ kill you.”

She picks up her coffee cup for the third time, groaning when it’s  _ still _ empty and she finally stands to put it in the bin. It buys Vanessa about ten seconds of thinking time.

“It’s not a guy.” Not lying. “I was at my mum’s, then I missed my train and just stayed somewhere quiet for the night instead of going back to her house.” Still not lying. She’s doing well.

“We had an argument okay. I can’t just leave it like that.”

Her eyes flicker away at that one. Technically she hadn’t just left without trying to make peace. But she knew she wasn’t planning on going back. She knew exactly where she was going.

“Alright, alright. Sorry...didn’t mean to pry. Want to head back? AbFab and hot chocolate? Think my brain is going to shut down in a minute.”

Vanessa nods and moves her papers back into their polly pockets. She hates lying, especially about this. She feels nothing but gratitude that she’s found Charity, yet she feels like she’s acting ashamed by hiding it. 

But this is  _ hers. Theirs. _ To enjoy and relax for a while before everyone barges in on it. She knows there’ll be questions and with questions come the scars and with the scars come the stories. If Charity can’t share them with her yet, then she sure as hell doesn’t want her feeling like she has to explain to anyone else.

Her fingers type out another text while Rhona is preoccupied shoving everything into her backpack.

_ *Trust me, I’m just as impatient as you.* _

\--------------------------------- 

The train journey feels so much longer than it should be. She’s going directly to Hotten this time to save an hour on the bus from her hometown. It should take just over fifty minutes, the route delving in and out of picturesque country villages from Leeds to her destination. It’s gorgeous, really. But her eyes spend more time on her watch than gazing out of the window at her view.

She’s wearing the hoodie, hoping it will calm her nerves, but now it just smells like her own perfume and she misses the subtle hints of Charity that were woven into the fabric. 

Vanessa picks her book back up and tries to focus on the words for the last fifteen minutes until the train screeches to a halt at Hotten station. It’s go time. Her bag is across her shoulders and her book tucked under her arm as she power walks down the aisle, ignoring the annoyed grunt of a bloke who tries to get up ahead of her.

She’s fairly sure she bashes into at least four innocent locals on her way out of the station. 

There’s a bus every half an hour that goes via Emmerdale and her train only arrived with three minutes for her to get on the next one, following the signs and hoping desperately that she’s going the right way. The bus station station is opposite the barriers and she can see passengers piling on as she shoves her ticket in the reader.

The turnstile gets stuck part way and she almost yells at the poor security guard who comes to her rescue, eyeing her like he’d almost left her on the other side for her attitude. She smiles briefly in thanks before darting out into the fresh air.

A familiar hiss sounds as the bus lets off its brakes and pulls away from the kerb, just as Vanessa reaches the opposite pavement.  _ Shit. _

Her head drops back and she closes her eyes against the sky, willing herself not to stamp her feet against the ground like a brat. When she brings her gaze back down, she does a double take.

Standing up against the passenger door of a battered looking Peugot, just metres behind the bus stop, is Charity. She’s smirking at her and Vanessa can just about see her raise a brow in expectation. It takes a second for Vanessa to move but then she’s crossing the tarmac and in front of the blonde, shaking her head in confusion.

“I didn’t know you could drive?” 

Charity laughs quietly and instead of a reply, she lifts Vanessa’s bag from around her shoulders, opening the boot to chuck it inside. “Hello to you and all.”

When she comes back, Vanessa’s just about gathered herself and smiles softly back at the blonde. She hadn’t forgotten how gorgeous she is, but it still makes her heart beat that little bit faster. She pushes some of the curls back off Charity’s shoulder and feels everything inside her settle when she gets a lopsided grin back.

“Hi.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanessa's back in Emmerdale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter all in one 12 hour block whilst also attempting to work my normal 9-5 from home so ...apologies if it is utter rubbish - my eyes stopped working around 10pm and I can no longer remember how to speak English. I miss our ladies and would like them back now please ED. As always you can find me on twitter @bee_kudo

“Aha, that better not be the last of the milk?”

Vanessa almost gulps her tea down the wrong way when Chas’ voice filters into the quiet of the kitchen. She shoots her a sheepish smile and lifts her hands up in mock surrender before pointing towards the fridge.

“Almost a full two pinter in there, promise!” Chas just laughs and swings open the door to retrieve the bottle, grabbing a mug decorated with adorable cartoon farm animals and a glass jar from the shelf above.

“I need a coffee, desperately. Half _six_ that bloody drayman turned up this morning.” She scoops at least three teaspoons of instant into the mug and Vanessa winces in guilt.

“Sorry...”

She gets an eye-roll and tired smile in return as Chas dumps two sugars into the mix. “What’re _you_ saying sorry for you daft mare?” She turns to lean against the counter, waiting impatiently for the kettle and eyes lighting up when she hears it click.

“Well, I know Charity wasn’t around to help this morning; she was too busy hurtling along country roads so she could pick _me_ up.” 

Chas pauses for a second, kettle in hand as her eyes turn incredulously to Vanessa. “Oh love, our Charity barely gets up for the drayman on her _own_ earlies, let alone to help me on mine.” 

Vanessa grins as Chas stirs, lifting her mug of tea up to her lips. 

She likes getting glimpses of Charity from the people who know her, the people who get to see her everyday. Especially Chas. 

From what she’s gathered, Chas was the one to take her cousin in, give her a steady job behind the bar so her and her mum Faith wouldn’t be so run off their feet. Vanessa gets the impression that Chas knows more than she’d like to; Charity’s past, where she was before - she might even know more about her scars than Vanessa. She bats away the pang of jealousy she feels at that, allowing herself to simply be grateful that Charity had someone. 

Chas seems careful, like she knows that Charity could snap or find a trigger in the smallest of things. Vanessa takes comfort in watching them interact, both as seemingly hard-headed as each other, yet the understanding between them is solid, unspoken. 

Since she’d finally laid eyes on the blonde after all these years, Vanessa’s emotions have been everything from excited, to settled, to something staggering she can't quite put a name to. But there’s been guilt too. Moments where she remembers shoving down the very idea of Charity just to ease her own worry, feeling angry that the marks would take a week just to disappear before she could begin to forget them. Even the days where she would acknowledge the possibility, the days where she would picture a girl in pain and overshadowed by her own mistakes and misfortunes. 

Even when she knew Charity could be out there, hurting and terrified. It always came back to _her_ moving on with her life, when Charity was probably never given the choice.

So she’s glad for Chas. Almost as much as she’s glad for Charity.

“Although, she was out the house before I could even get my dressing gown on this morning.” 

Chas sips contently on her coffee and tilts a brow at Vanessa.

“Ah, so she _can_ wake up, she just chooses not to.” She leans back in her chair, remembering a sleepy Charity curled up in the armchair across the room, shoulders heavy and hair untamed. Maybe she spends more nights like that than she lets on, maybe she’s never up on time because her eyes only fall shut as the sun rises.

“When it suits her apparently,” Chas eyes her over the rim of her mug, “when the reason to is good enough.”

Vanessa flushes at the insinuation, suddenly wishing steam was still rising from her tea to cover her rosy cheeks.

“Right, get your shoes o-” Charity’s grin drops as she reaches the doorway, “oh, you’re here.” 

Chas swallows the dregs of her coffee and scoffs as she flicks the tap on. “Uh yes, I _am_ here thanks very much, seeing as this is where I _live_ and _work_ and spend time with my _adoring_ family..” she shifts her eyes to Vanessa, “charming, isn’t she?”

Vanessa looks over to where Charity’s hovering by the arm of the sofa, guard evidently up a little with Chas in the room. She’s changed, her washed out Pearl Jam t-shirt still hanging loosely across her shoulders, but now it’s half tucked into a pair of dark denim shorts. _Shorts._ With the slight platform her black boots give her, her legs seem to go on for miles and Vanessa swallows hard.

For all the scars Vanessa knows she has, Charity’s lightly tanned skin looks flawless and it takes a minute for her to focus on the familiar shiver at the base of her neck. Her eyes dart upwards and immediately find the source. Charity’s watching her. She’s not frowning anymore.

“Don’t be late for your shift please, I’m due at Paddy’s for five.” She’s definitely glad for Chas now. The interruption gives her an excuse to take her own mug to the sink while she attempts to compose herself.

“Keep your wig on, we’ll be back.” 

Vanessa runs a sponge along the inside of her cup, noting the sound of a door click as she watches soap bubbles rinse away down the plug hole. She doesn’t hear Charity’s footsteps but her blood grows warmer by the second and she knows she’s being joined. There’s a hint of smugness in the voice but it’s still soft.

“You ready to go?”

Vanessa places the mug down onto the draining board and wipes her hands on her dress, hoping she’s not leaving obvious wet marks over the white cotton. She knows Charity sees her dilated pupils when she turns.

“Lead the way.”

\-------------------

“It’s gorgeous out here.”

Vanessa’s ankles are gently tickled by the taller blades of grass as she follows Charity up towards a large oak tree. Its leaves billow out across the sky and cover a patch of the field in cool shade. Charity’s a few steps ahead with a bag across her back and hums in agreement as they reach the trunk. 

“Come here when I’m fed up with the rowdy punters and Chas nagging my ear off.”

Charity unwinds the strap from her body and zips open the bag, pulling a blanket out which she tries to shake before letting it fall at the base of the tree and heaving herself down onto it. She looks expectantly up at Vanessa, her eyes squinting slightly from where the sun peeks through some branches.

Vanessa smiles. She looks easier, like the warmth of the sun through her t-shirt has relaxed the muscles in her back. She’s only just noticed the way Charity’s shoulders seem to be always hitched up in tension, only now that they’re lower, angled where she’s leaning back on her elbows.

She walks the few steps to the edge of the blanket and gently kicks off her trainers so that they rest to the side. It reminds her of summer days on the school field, toes in the cool grass on her lunch break, nobody too bothered about legging it to class when the bell rang because the year was almost over anyway.

There’s a light breeze, just enough to lap at the hem of her dress and dislodge the errant curls from behind her ear. She plants herself next to Charity and mimics her gaze out across the Dales. It’s beautiful really, about a hundred different shades of green and nothing but rolling hills, the odd village here and there with thatched roofs and wonky chimneys. She was closer to the city at home, having to drive about forty minutes before they hit greener pastures. This was idyllic. 

She doesn’t need imagination to understand why this is Charity’s safe space, they’re not even close enough to the village to hear the sound of passing cars anymore. It’s just birdsong and the wind.

“I can see why.” She notices Charity tilt her face towards her but she doesn’t move her own. “I’m envious, closest I had to this was the garden wall.”

Charity chuckles gently beside her before leaning forward, hands delving into the Mary Poppins bag she’d brought with them. She pulls out a few boxes, two cans and two glass bottles before turning to Vanessa with a question in her eyes.

“Didn’t know if you’d want a ‘drink’ drink, so you’ve options.” 

She sits up slightly, eyeing the labels before deciding on the cloudy lemonade. The blonde notices her choice before she speaks and grabs her keys from her pocket. Fiddling around a bit, she eventually finds the keyring she needs and pops the lid from the bottle before handing it over with a grin.

Vanessa waits for the hiss of the can when Charity opens her own cider and reaches out to tap the neck of her own bottle to the metal. 

“Cheers.” They smile at each other for a second before lifting their drinks to sip and Vanessa feels her heartbeat strong behind her ribs.

They pick quietly at the food for a while, Marlon having left them an array of sandwiches and sausage rolls in tupperware. He’s even left a slice of dense chocolate cake in one box; Charity only takes a mouthful before giving the fork to Vanessa. “Your eyes are like dinner plates looking at that thing.”

She grins widely and tries to avoid getting crumbs all over herself under the blonde’s watchful eye.

Charity’s leaning against the tree trunk sipping on her drink slowly when Vanessa moves the empty boxes back into the bag. She comes back to sit next to her, shuffling until they’re pressed arm to arm and she can see the hairs along Charity’s forearm stand up amongst the freckles. 

They sit quietly for a while. Vanessa feels as though this has been kept a secret from her almost. As though this, here with Charity, her mind settled and her heart overwhelmed, is where she should have been all along. As though it seems daft they would have ever been anywhere else, with anyone else.

She knows it’s more complicated than that. She understands that no matter how much her body will continue to pull her back here on instinct, no matter how simple it seems to fall into Charity and let the rest follow, it’s not going to be that easy. 

The hairs on her own arm raise slowly when Charity links their fingers on top of Vanessa’s leg. It’s not a firm hold, just loosely intertwined so the blonde can brush a thumb just above her knee, Vanessa’s lungs vibrating when she manages to shake out a breath in response. She can just about feel Charity’s pulse where their wrists press together, it’s fast but she still seems relaxed beside her.

“Now I _know_ it’s you, for sure.” Her voice is hoarse and it catches Vanessa’s attention, her sudden grip on Charity’s fingers doesn’t go unnoticed. “No, not that I wasn’t already sure, you know I was. Don’t exactly think I’d act like this or _feel_ like this around anyone else.”

Vanessa turns her head to face her. “Why did it sound like a bad realisation?” She knows she sounds worried, Charity’s eyes fly to hers immediately, attempting to back track.

“It wasn’t, it’s not.” Her heart rate has picked up and her hands start to feel clammy when Charity leans her free hand over to brush against where Vanessa’s dress ends mid-thigh. 

She shivers at the touch and when Charity’s finger runs across the same patch of skin a few times she glances down. 

Her scar.

It’s faint now, like a small lightning bolt across her skin, no more than an inch long. It had been an ugly healing process, puckering red skin like a blister until it had dried over and fallen away. But all in all, just over a year later and she’s almost completely forgotten it’s there. 

“Oh,” the nerves underneath her scar start to feel like live wires at Charity’s fingertips, heat rising to the surface as if trying to seep into her hands. 

“I’d not even thought. It’s my only one.”

Charity’s staring at the mark, but Vanessa doesn’t feel ashamed when green eyes roam along it like it’s part of a painting in one of those fancy museums. Her hand rests easily along the hem of Vanessa’s dress and a thumb lays still on the faded outline. 

Vanessa has no idea why there’s a stinging behind her eyes.

“Did someone do that?”

Her body tenses. She _hates_ that Charity’s automatic explanation for their scars is someone’s callous actions and brutality; it just brings back all of her teenage fears for Charity’s painful life.

Her right hand drops the empty lemonade bottle onto the grass and moves to rest over where Charity’s own is pressed against her leg. She blinks a few times to make sure she won’t cry before she reassures her.

“No, well, me...drunk me.” Lips quirk up into a slight grin and it pushes Vanessa on. “I got too drunk on a night out, tripped over a step trying to get to a taxi and fell onto a broken Heineken bottle. Eight stitches, last year.”

Charity laughs gently but turns her palm around to twist her fingers around Vanessa’s other hand. 

“Trust me to get a right Calamity Jane.” It’s teasing, she knows it is, but it brings the stinging back behind her eyes. She sniffs to drag back the tears that form and a careful finger is under her chin in seconds.

“Hey, what did I say? I’m sorry Ness, I- I didn’t mean to laugh it off …” 

Vanessa hates the panic in Charity’s voice even more than she hates the tremor in her own.

“You didn’t..sorry,” she wipes frustratedly at her cheeks when a tear escapes from her under her lashes, “I’m just being stupid.” Charity starts to shake her head, squeezing her hand and waiting patiently instead of pushing Vanessa. 

She lets out a ragged breath and allows her gaze to meet worried eyes.

“The night I did it, I hadn’t had a scar for so long. You must have been here.”

Charity just nods and nudges a loose hair away from Vanessa’s forehead.

“I’d given up on the idea of you and I think I was glad for a while; I hoped it meant that you hadn’t actually been through everything I thought you had. But I was devastated too, this person who was supposed to know me, love me, someday...you didn’t actually exist.” She pauses when Charity squeezes her hand again, like she’s trying to remind Vanessa that she _is_ there.

“But when we got back from the hospital, I was laying there in bed and could feel it throbbing in pain and...all I could think about was whether you were out there somewhere, about to wake up with a new scar.” Charity waits for a minute, moving one hand to cup Vanessa’s jaw and brush gently with her thumb. Her eyes are glassy but she’s smiling softly.

The blonde suddenly shifts onto her knees before pushing herself to stand, holding a hand down for Vanessa to take. She gazes up at her, wiping the last of the tear tracks away “What are we doing?”

“We’re following me.”

Vanessa grabs at slender fingers and grips firmly when they slide between her own again. They walk around the tree and up the field a few paces until they reach the stone wall that divides the land they’ve wandered across and its neighbouring farms.

Charity spins them so that Vanessa’s back is to the wall and jerks her head upwards. “Hop on.”

“You want me to get up on the wall?”

Charity raises an eyebrow at her playfully but her eyes are still hesitant, worried that she’s not doing the right thing. Vanessa rolls her eyes to try and reassure her and hitches herself up and backwards until she’s seated on the warm stone.

She’s only just taller than Charity now, her feet off the floor and swaying below her. Her breath catches in her throat when the blonde moves her knees slightly apart so that she can step in between, one hand still hovering over her scar. Charity looks back to her when she speaks.

“I was in the shower when I saw it, freaked me right out.” She smiles, properly, and Vanessa feels herself relax. “I was so sure it wasn’t one of mine, but I just assumed I’d forgotten about it. Never would have thought a drunkard was at the other end.”

Vanessa laughs properly then, slapping Charity’s arm lightly where it rests on her other leg. 

“Oi, brought me up here to make me feel like a clown?”

Charity sobers, both her hands sliding up towards the hem of the dress as she steps in closer. The tug in Vanessa’s stomach yanks violently, her pulse surely visible where it hammers under her skin.

“No,” she waits, seemingly giving Vanessa the chance to pull away, so Vanessa ignores her nerves and brings a hand to scratch at the base of Charity’s skull instead. She smiles when Charity preens.

“I brought you up here, to tell you that I have sat on this wall almost every day for the past year, come rain or shine, wondering whether this was it for me. My life. Here, the pub, Chas and Faith.”

Her hands slide further up as she bunches the bottom of Vanessa’s dress in her hands. 

“But then _you_ turn up on a picnic bench in my beer garden, with my stupid scar on your hand…”

Vanessa pulls gently at the back of Charity’s head when she sees her welling up, urging her to close the last of the distance between them. She threads both hands into blonde curls and waits.

“I’ve never been so grateful for a bloody scar in my life, Ness. That it was _you_ on the other side.”

She’s fairly sure that if she waits any longer, there’ll be too many tears to see each other properly. So instead, Vanessa tilts Charity’s jaw upwards and kisses her with everything she has.

\-------------------

Vanessa’s balled up in the corner of the sofa watching TV when Charity’s shift finally finishes. She’d spent the first few hours at her place at the bar, nursing the same pint the whole time while she waited patiently for Charity to come to her between customers. After the clock hit eight, the blonde had leaned in and told Vanessa where she hid her flowery smelling bubble bath and ordered her to go and relax. The wink that came with it meant she didn’t need much convincing.

She’d soaked until she’d turned into a prune, eventually dragging herself out of the warmth and rifling through her bag she’d brought up to Charity’s room. She’d been about to pull on her checkered bottoms when she’d spotted it poking out from under a pillow. 

It’s massive, it drowns her tiny frame but it had smelled so much like Charity that she’d shoved her own pyjamas back into her bag and made her way downstairs.

Charity flicks the lights off in the hallway and shuts the door quietly behind her, tired frown turning into a soft grin when she spots Vanessa watching her from her blanket cocoon. 

“Locked up?”

Charity drops a kiss to her forehead and rests against her temple for a second before pulling up. “Safe and sound.”

Vanessa watches fondly as she kicks off her boots and pads into the kitchen to turn the kettle on, a smile splitting across her lips when she notices two mugs automatically grabbed down from the cupboard.

“Thought you’d have passed out by now.”

She glances over to the clock and startles slightly when she notices it’s almost one in the morning. It had been more difficult to settle without Charity this time.

Vanessa runs a hand through her mop of waves and pushes the blanket off her knees so that she can stand, stretching her hands above her head until her back lets out a satisfying click. She wanders over to the counter opposite Charity, watching as she pours in arguably just the right amount of milk. 

“Didn’t realise it was so late, also I didn’t know where you kept the spare duvet.”

A throaty chuckle leaves Charity's throat and Vanessa feels it through her veins. “There’s being polite and then there’s being _dim_ sweetheart, you could have gone up to mine if you were tired.” She drops both teabags into the bin and moves to the sink, glancing at Vanessa over her shoulder.

The teaspoon is dropped into the sink with a clatter and her eyes widen slightly as they trace a line from Vanessa’s knees to her face. Vanessa panics for a second before she realises why Charity’s staring. 

“Oh...mine weren’t as comfortable..I just found it when…” she trails off, not knowing if she’s crossed a line.

“My hoody, my t-shirt...does this soulmate gig come with a written agreement that you can steal all my clothes?”

Charity’s voice is low, and although there’s a joke in there somewhere, she’s not smiling. Instead, she’s looking at where the top falls off Vanessa’s shoulder and it seems like her hand is shaking when she drags her fingers through her curls. 

Vanessa can’t read her for a minute and it’s unnerving.

But then she’s stepping towards her, green eyes set on her own and she understands.

Charity kisses her slowly, hands tight at her hips where she’s pressed against the counter top. She tentatively winds her arms across behind Charity’s neck to pull her in further and a noise she doesn’t recognise leaves her throat when a tongue traces along her bottom lip. It’s not rushed, or desperate, it’s _everything._

She feels _everything._ All at once. Her heart thundering against her ribs, her stomach dipping with every drag of their lips, her legs weakening underneath her, her entire frame shaking. 

She can’t catch her breath. 

“Ness? Ness, hey, breathe.” Charity’s pupils are blown to the point where Vanessa can’t see any green but they’re filled with concern. She tries to mimic the blonde’s action of inhaling slowly through her nose until eventually she feels herself calm down. 

“Are you alright?” Her hands are holding Vanessa’s face so gently, her lips swollen and her hair tangled where hands were lost moments ago. Vanessa’s heart settles, strong and steady in her chest. She smiles. 

“Now I know it’s you, _for sure_.” 

Charity’s pinched brows smooth out into a grin and her hands slide back down to Vanessa’s waist where she tugs, backing them slowly away from the kitchen.

\-------------------

Charity’s room is dark save from the strip of warm streetlight across the bed. The orange glow illuminates more and more of her skin as they work to tug her t-shirt over her head and launch it to a corner of the room.

Vanessa’s hands return to her ribs, splaying out until they reach around to the soft skin of her back. She fumbles for a minute until the clasp flicks open, Charity too busy dragging her own fingers up the back of Vanessa’s thighs to notice. 

She knows the shiver that runs through her body is more than visible as Charity laughs into her neck. 

Kisses are placed along the pale expanse of her throat until familiar lips meet her own and she’s lost in the haze again. Kissing Charity, touching her, is like the very last part of her finding its place. She feels the overwhelming desire to cry but the fear of scaring Charity again keeps it at bay. 

When her legs hit the mattress, they go down together, her fingers digging into Charity’s shoulder blades as she drags the t-shirt further and further up Vanessa’s body. But then it all stops abruptly and the hands that were on her are suddenly absent. Vanessa’s eyes search for green in the darkness. 

“What’s wrong?” Her breathing is uneven when she speaks. Charity is up again, crossing the room and Vanessa begins to panic. Before she can rise to follow her, a dim yellow light flickers on near the wardrobe.

The blonde turns and Vanessa’s mouth is suddenly dry. She looks disheveled, her hair wild and her chest heaving as she stalks back over to the bed. When she returns to Vanessa’s knees, she reaches out to trace a finger along the outline of lace underwear, gaze following the pattern to where it meets between her legs.

“The darkness could never do you justice.” Charity only meets her eyes once she’s hooked both fingers around the sides and she waits for Vanessa’s small nod before she pulls them down over her legs, dropping them to the side and returning to place kisses on the inside of each thigh.

Vanessa shakes at the touch and reaches out for her just as Charity stands, bringing Vanessa into a sitting position in front of her. She rucks up the t-shirt quickly this time, pulling it over Vanessa’s head and groaning when she realises there’s no bra underneath. Charity leans forward to crawl over her, only stopping when and hand on her stomach pushes her back.

Vanessa kisses the dips surrounding the muscles on Charity’s stomach and heat pools low in her stomach when a guttural moan leaves the blonde’s mouth. She continues her path along the skin while she works at the zip on Charity’s jeans. Getting the hint, Charity shoves the material roughly down her legs until she can pull it off. She stumbles slightly in her hurry and it brings a giggle out of both of them before they look back at each other, still, for a moment.

Charity is incredible, smooth curves leading to expanses of soft skin that Vanessa longs to touch, taste. Familiar marks catch her eye as she roams, a path burning across her own skin where she knows Charity’s eyes are taking her in.

Vanessa is well aware that she’s naked, a state which usually leaves her feeling nothing but vulnerable. Yet she’s never felt safer. More seen. More adored, in her entire life, than when Charity looks at her.

Her heart is in her throat, clogged with emotions she didn’t know she could feel, and when her gaze returns to Charity’s, she can see her eyes are glazed over with unshed tears. She goes to lean up, to reach for Charity but the blonde is leaning back over her before she can ask.

“I’m fine, sweetheart, it’s just a lot.”

She cradles Charity’s face as it hovers over her own, leaving a tender kiss on her cheekbone where a familiar white line resides. 

“I know.”

Their kisses grow deeper this time, teeth pulling at her bottom lip as slender hands explore her chest. Vanessa whimpers when a tongue descends to swirl around her nipple. Her mind can’t focus on anything more than the shock it sends through her body and the hand that’s working its way down her abdomen.

Vanessa tugs the blonde upwards slightly and moves her mouth to Charity’s neck as her legs start to tremble in anticipation. She sucks hard when she feels fingers slip through the wetness they find. Charity’s head falls forward onto her shoulder and she lets out a ragged breath. “Fuck.”

She knows once the hand dips lower again, she’ll be gone. So Vanessa drags her own hand from where it rests on Charity’s back down to the short patch of blonde curls between her legs. A second of hesitation as Charity sucks in a breath, then she touches her. 

The sound of Charity moaning obscenities in her ear is enough to encourage her and so she tugs at the hairs on the nape of the blonde’s neck with her other hand, just until her mouth reaches Charity’s ear.

“Together, Charity.”

Her eyes slam shut when she feels Charity ease inside, revelling in the cry that fills the room when she does the same.

“Together.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charity reveals some of her past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to try and make this a gentle moment between them, with some additional scenes of them just being at ease with one another. I hope it worked! I have had a really weird and horrible few days and writing this helped a bit so I hope you enjoy and of course feel free to let me know/say hi on twitter @bee_kudo. You're all great.

There’s never been a sweeter sound to bounce between her bedroom walls than Vanessa’s ragged breathing as she comes back down. The contours of her ribs rise and fall rapidly, shuddering slightly in their movement when Charity drags a tongue up her abdomen. She frames Vanessa’s sides with her own still tingling hands and rests her chin on the heated skin of her hip bone, watching as Vanessa blinks up at the ceiling for a minute.

Slowly but surely, her breathing evens out, her chest no longer heaving and Charity reaches out a finger to catch a bead of sweat as it tracks between her breasts. The moisture it leaves behind glistens in the low lamplight.

Vanessa breathes out a soft chuckle and Charity makes no attempt to stop her lips as they quirk up at the sound, her head jostling along with the body underneath her. Eventually lifting herself back until her feet touch the carpet, she dips her head once more, peppering kisses along weakened thighs until she reaches the spot that makes her heart constrict. 

Charity’s lips linger longer there, just until Vanessa releases the sharp intake of breath and relaxes under her mouth.

It’s perfect. Well stitched and properly healed, unlike many of her own. The memory of the outline on her own skin returns to her as she traces her index finger over the mark.

“What’s the time?” Vanessa whispers above her.

Charity pulls up onto the foot of the bed, glancing at the clock on her bedside as she moves upwards to hover over Vanessa’s slender form.

“Almost five. Why? You got somewhere to be?” She keeps a gentle smile on her face to emphasise that it’s said in jest.

Her chest swells when all she gets back is a sated grin and a “nope.”

Vanessa’s eyes are glazed over with something so unashamedly happy that Charity doesn’t resist the urge to lean down and take full lips between her own for the thousandth time. She could quite easily listen to the sound of Vanessa’s content hum when they kiss until the end of her days. Her own contentment settles below her diaphragm when a light touch grazes against her skin, Vanessa’s hand coming to cradle her jaw.

After a minute or two, Charity slumps down onto the mattress, limbs curling into the curves of Vanessa’s body and blonde tresses feathering out across the skewed pillows. She lets her eyes flutter closed when Vanessa’s hand automatically rests on her hip. 

Short nails skate lightly over her skin and she shivers.

“You’ve got goosebumps.” It’s quiet, like the darkness is listening to them.

“Tickling someone’s leg will do that, babe.” Charity edges open one eye, smiling when she finds Vanessa’s eyes glued to the rising bumps on her thigh. “You trying to make me squirm or what?”

Vanessa smiles in reply but doesn’t move her gaze back to Charity’s. 

“No, sorry..just admiring.”

She feels puffed up for a minute before she recognises the path that Vanessa’s eyes are taking. Reaching for the sheets where they’ve bundled together at the bottom of the bed, she pulls until Vanessa’s view is obscured. 

“Nothing to admire about those, can tell you that much.”

The sheets have almost come to cover her chest when they’re swiftly pulled away again, replaced immediately with warm hands. God, she can’t help but melt under fingertips when Vanessa’s voice is that raw.

“That’s not true, actually. It’s a bit late for that talk anyway seeing as I’ve been admiring them all night...and for the best part of the past twelve years.” 

Charity knows the exact placement of a scar as Vanessa moves her fingers over a knot it left behind. Preparing herself on instinct, she almost doesn’t want an answer to her next question.

“Thought they frightened you?”

Vanessa tenses against her for a second, fingers stopping briefly before drifting over to a mark under her ribs.

“They didn’t.” She maneuvers to drop a kiss to Charity’s chest. “ _You_ did. The idea of you turning up, flipping my world inside out and upside down at any given moment.” She pauses. “But, to be honest, the only reason I ever felt truly scared when I saw them was because I knew you could be hurt...wherever you were.”

Charity doesn’t know how to respond to that. She’s always been under the impression that anyone who knew, wouldn’t pity her pain...or understand, even. They would only avoid pushing her because they didn’t want to sit and listen to the ugly truth. 

Even after Debbie, her scars had never been a marker of strength, not to anyone.

Not a reminder of the physical and mental agony she’d been through, evidence of the fact she was forced to age prematurely. Thrust into the real world yet stripped of her child and every morsel of her dignity.

Instead, they were a marker of her stupidity, her careless attitude and the burden she’d placed on her family. The first time Cain had noticed them, he’d turned his nose up in disgust. Her dad had made her wear men’s extra large everything just in case one should unveil itself.

For her, they were the only scars she could bear to look at for a long time.

The cracked lip and broken nose were ignored on a daily basis as she passed the mirror. But the stretch marks - some days, she would step out of the shower and leave the towel on the edge of the bath, instead choosing to stare at them until the steam had turned to droplets on the glass and she was left with her reflection.

That or until the door slammed open and she was dragged out to be paraded in front of his latest cohort.

They were all a reminder of her pain, in one way or another. Until now, no one had bothered to ask how. To care.

Vanessa’s head tilts towards her arm and a moment passes where she looks at Charity with eyes so unguarded that it feels like she’s been punched. A wave of emotion. A warning for the inevitable word vomit where she confesses every tortured feeling and thought to this person.

Her person.

Vanessa leans in, placing a tender kiss to her bare shoulder and Charity’s overcome with the need to weep. So she speaks instead.

“You were thirteen too, right? When I got pregnant.” 

Vanessa’s lips move against her skin when she replies. “Almost.”

Charity nods and the way careful fingers continue to stroke against her sides soothes her enough to push on.

“I had the baby, Debbie, but they took her away from me. Decided she’d be best off with someone else. Which she would’ve been, to be fair.”

The lips purse slightly, like Vanessa’s going to argue, but she says nothing.

“My dad was so ashamed, fed up I guess. He kicked me out.”

She feels Vanessa pull away from her shoulder. “Your mum -”

“- was dead.” She finishes. There’s no reply, only a tight nod before the lips are pressed more fervently back to her skin.

She closes her eyes for a second to bask in the warmth it spreads, heart thrumming solidly in her chest.

“So...I did my rounds of the family, til each and every one of them got sick of the sight of me. Then it was just me and the streets.”

Charity doesn’t feel her stomach in her feet like she normally does remembering it. It’s not coming, not with Vanessa laying next to her, soft breaths pushing her chest out to meet Charity’s own. Not with the view of their tangled legs and happily discarded clothes. 

“Charity, you don’t have to…” Vanessa starts.

“I know I don’t. But weirdly, this was your life too, I guess. You just didn’t know it.”

A curl of her hair is twisted around Vanessa’s finger before she lifts her voice just louder than a whisper.

“I didn’t have to go through what you went through Charity. You can’t compare that. You’re amazing. You survived, you -”

Charity kisses her then.

Not to shut her up. Not to avoid the subject she knew was coming. But because behind every fear for teenage Vanessa, was the fear for Charity. Was this unwavering belief that if Charity existed, she was incredible, a fighter, something so far from _any_ way she had ever pictured herself.

The faith in this belief is what presses her lips to Vanessa’s.

When she pulls away, she only does so by a fraction, enough to see watery eyes and a gentle smile. 

“I did. And maybe I did so that I could meet you, ey? Maybe I was supposed to wait for you to make me feel like I’ve always been worth something.”

Charity knows she’s got tears running down her cheeks that mirror Vanessa’s, but she refuses to lose herself this far in. She twists their hands together and looks back to the ceiling.

“In the end, I did what any girl on the streets would have done after long enough. Heavy handed blokes and freezing corners with the few mates I’d made.” She sighs, steeling herself for a response she can’t quite predict.

“A copper took me in eventually, an offer of a roof over my head and a regular meal was hard to refuse back then.”

Charity still remembers getting into his car, feeling safe for the first time in _years._ That was it for her, her saving grace. How stupid.

“Started off with just him, booze and drugs, it all geared him up. He wasn’t there every night, but when he was, it was always the same routine. Rough me up, yell at me, use me til he got tired and come back a few days later with a loaf of bread and a smile.”

Something splashes against her shoulder and she turns to press her lips to Vanessa’s temple. The familiar smell of her shampoo eases the tension slowly building up in Charity’s system. She stays put.

“Then he’d invite his mates. One of them broke my nose -”

Vanessa’s free hand flies to her own nose and Charity waits a minute, kissing the skin under her lips again gently until she calms.

She knows Vanessa has seen that one. It was small but mighty after it had healed.

“One day, I just saw my window and legged it. Managed to track down Faith after a while and now, well, now I’m here.”

Charity somewhat expects Vanessa to shy away from the details, after bombarding her with the explanations she’s been without for so many years. Yet, she’s not sure what she would do now if Vanessa took her own window of opportunity for what it was and left their whirlwind week behind.

Turns out, she doesn’t need to dwell on that for too long. The girl in question presses reverent kisses along her collarbone until she reaches Charity’s pulse point, letting her lips rest there, firm and reassuring.

“Do you feel safe now? Here?”

Of course from all that, how she feels is what Vanessa’s focused on. She closes her eyes to try and stop herself asking what in the world she’s done to deserve _this_. Her.

“I do, yeah.”

It’s the truth. The security that came with family had always evaded Charity as a kid. But now? Now they’ve given her a chance. Now she knows he can’t get to her.

She has a warm bed without expectations, three square meals without conditions.

And Vanessa.

A pillar of everything good, who looks at Charity like she’s hung the bloody moon and stars, touches her like she’s something to be treasured not tarnished. Someone who she was meant for, who wants nothing more than to know her. 

Charity thinks that somehow, wherever they might be, as long as she’s with Vanessa, she will always be okay. Safe.

“Good.”

\-----------------------

Vanessa can’t tell where Charity ends and she begins. The bright stream of sunlight that dapples over the blonde’s chest makes her look almost golden and she feels a familiar ache in her throat at the sight.

Charity’s sleeping peacefully, one arm looped around her shoulder, holding Vanessa in place with a hand tangled in her hair. The other arm disappears somewhere under Vanessa’s leg where it’s draped across Charity’s stomach.

As soon as they try to move, they’ll be betrayed by sore necks and dead legs but for now, it’s the most comfortable Vanessa has ever been. After a few minutes, she realises she isn’t getting back to sleep anytime soon and so she allows her eyes to open fully against the warmth.

Removing her hand from its place tucked under Charity’s back, she draws her fingers across the indented marks she’s never been able to forget, over her stomach until she reaches one she can’t quite remember. It’s just above her right hip bone, small and sharp, one of _his,_ she thinks.

Vanessa can’t quite fathom how anyone could look at this woman and believe that she deserves anything but adoration. How anyone who got to have Charity in their life felt anything besides pride and gratitude.

She’s incredible. She’s beautiful. _She’s Vanessa’s_.

It felt as good to say it now as it did to hear it when Charity had breathed it into her ear the night before.

Vanessa’s not afraid anymore. It feels impossible to be truly afraid of someone who eases her heart as quickly as they can overwhelm it. Of all the things Charity’s had to be scared of, she hopes she isn’t one…

That man, his hands grabbing her, hurting her, the wait between his visits. 

She hadn’t pushed her, had tried only to listen as quietly as she could, letting Charity say whatever she needed to and hoping gentle touches were enough encouragement to _trust._

All she wanted was to replace the memory of careless hands with her own. 

To try and make her feel safe, finally.

A groan sounds from below her and she startles briefly.

“If you’re angling for round…” there’s a pause while Charity wrinkles her brow, “five, with that hand, you’re gonna need to give me a minute to wake up first, Ness.”

The blonde tries to turn, nose nuzzling straight into Vanessa’s neck before her groan sounds again, pained this time.

“Oh Christ, scrap that. I need ibuprofen and a chiropractor.”

Vanessa laughs and brings her wandering fingers to thread into loose curls, scratching lightly at the base of Charity’s skull as she leans into the touch.

“Swap chiropractor for a coffee and I can do that.” Vanessa murmurs into her hair before trying to extract herself from Charity’s hold. She’s pulled back before she can swing out of bed.

“Abso _lutely_ not, sunshine. It’s my day off, which means we move only to pee and to eat when hunger gets the better of us.” It’s grumbled into her jaw as Charity leaves a messy kiss under her ear.

“Charity, I go home tomorrow morning, we are not sleeping all day today -”

" - who said anything about sleeping.” Charity cuts her off. The wiggle of her eyebrows is more adorable than seductive when she’s half asleep but Vanessa’s heart still races.

“We are _not_ ,” she whips the covers off them as she pushes off the mattress, “lazing around all day, sensational orgasms or no sensational orgasms.”

Thankful for the summer sun, she wanders to the doorway without stopping to collect her t-shirt from the corner of the room, only pausing when she catches movement in her peripheral.

“Sensational?” Charity’s eyes are wicked and it takes everything in Vanessa’s bones for her not to be pulled back in. The sheets are pooled around her waist where she’s sat up, her hair a mess, her skin glowing.

Vanessa bites her lip.

“I need a shower.”

Chas or Faith could easily see her but she can’t find it in herself to care as she swings the door open and calls behind her. Another hour of trying to show Charity everything she deserved couldn’t hurt.

“Coming?”

\-----------------------

Hotten’s not terrible. It’s not Leeds...but it’s not terrible.

Passing standard sixties office buildings and sporadically placed fishmongers and greengrocers, they eventually pull into a multi-storey that’s fairly packed for a Sunday afternoon. There’s a space tucked away between two estate cars and Charity squeezes into it before the bloke in the Volvo behind them can steal it.

The blonde wanders over to a complicated looking pay and display while Vanessa tries to wiggle herself out of the passenger door without knocking the car next to them. She wrinkles her nose slightly at the faint smell of leaking exhaust pipes and burnt rubber before pulling Charity’s hoody down over her hands comfortingly.

Ticket safely stuck to the windscreen, they make their way to the lifts and descend into the shopping centre below. When the doors open, the smell is far more pleasant. There’s a pretzel vendor half way along the row of shops on the first floor and the smell of dough is only rivaled by some sort of perfume wafting out of The Body Shop.

“Okay, where to first?” Charity tugs them to the side a little so the next load of shoppers can step out of the lift behind them, her fingers linked between Vanessa’s.

“Well, I really should try and find something for Rhona’s birthday, I’ve sorted a party next week before our exams start but we’ve always done gifts as well.” She chews on her cheek and scours the shop fronts for something appropriate. 

“Ey up.” Charity points towards a Clinton’s, gaudy cards and teddies sat in the window display.

Vanessa tugs on her hand and they fall into step with one another as they zigzag through the crowd towards the store. 

“Seems like a good place to start.”

After almost half an hour searching through best friend birthday cards, she eventually finds a stand with blank, more tasteful ones. Charity hisses across the shop to get her attention on more than one occasion, holding up cards with crude jokes and adorable animals, eventually helping her pick out a “ _boring_ ” one with a glass of champagne and the word ‘ _Celebrate_ ’ brandished across it in cursive.

It feels good, perusing the shops with Charity like this is their everyday; a deliberate hand squeezing her waist as they pass each other between clothing rails, holding out garments to each other for a nod or a shake of the head, collapsing into a fit of childish giggles trying to get a pair of boots onto Charity’s feet when they’re far too small. 

They’re sharing a hefty paper bag of rhubarb and custard from the old fashioned sweet shop when it hits her, properly hits her. Charity gives her a look when she offers her the last one, and it’s like everything stops. There’s no noise, no children being wrangled away from the Build-A-Bear, no couples arguing about lunch in the food court, no security yelling at the gang of teenage boys lingering by the GameStation.

Just Charity. With green eyes unclouded, happy. Out of billions of people, it’s _Charity._ Beautiful, amazing, fierce as hell _Charity._

Rubbing a thumb against her cheek looking incredibly _concerned_ , Charity.

“Ness?” 

Vanessa shakes her head to clear the fog and smiles easily to calm the worried expression she’s faced with.

“Sorry, miles away.” 

Charity seems to read her for a moment, understanding that whatever passed through Vanessa’s mind was gone, but it was good. As she starts to pull Vanessa towards the exit, she shoots her a soft smile and a wink.

“Wait, we can’t go yet, we’ve not picked Chas up those lights she wanted for the bar!” Vanessa stops in her tracks.

The blonde turns back to her and leans in close before lifting a finger to point ahead at a shop window. Vanessa flushes at the sight of a mannequin wearing a silk negligee. 

“We’re not leaving, I just found our next stop is all.”

\-----------------------

“Babe?” Charity’s voice sounds from the cubicle next to her.

Vanessa hums in response as she hops up and down on the spot and stumbles slightly trying to get her jeans back on. She suddenly feels far less elegant than she had in the underwear that forms her ‘ _to buy’_ pile.

“I think I’m stuck in this thing.” 

The tone isn’t exactly playful, so Vanessa zips her stubborn jeans shut and slips her feet back in her shoes.

“You need a hand?”

“Please.” Comes the strained reply. 

She peels back the curtain to reveal the rest of the dressing room, mostly empty save for a bored looking woman hanging sets back on hangers in the corner. She knocks gently on the dividing wall and reminds herself not to laugh at what she may be about to face. Charity tangled in bra straps, Charity with a one-piece stuck half way off her body, Charity with - 

The curtain is pulled aside enough to let her in.

Charity in an all black lingerie set that looks as though it’s been hand painted on. 

All coherent words leave Vanessa’s brain.

“The garter belt is attached with these stupid little clasps but they’re even more bloody impossible to take off than they were to put on.”

Her hands are still trying hopelessly to detach the stockings and Vanessa can only stare like a horny, prepubescent boy while she growls at the material. Eventually she sighs and throws her hands in the air before facing Vanessa with a hand on her hip.

“I give up. Help.”

Charity’s face changes when their eyes meet and Vanessa knows she’s been caught. 

“We’re buying this, yes?” Her voice is hoarse.

There’s a hint of something dangerous in Charity’s eyes when she replies.

“Well, we certainly are if I can’t get the damn thing off.”

Between strips of black lace, Vanessa can see flawless stretches of Charity’s soft skin. Skin she knows now.

Her eyes find them automatically. The one on her left, under her rib. The one across her collarbone. The one just visible above the stocking hem. Marks she’s watched heal to nothing on herself, only to see them littered across the person who makes her heart thrash against her ribs. 

Vanessa doesn’t realise she’s backed them up against the wall until Charity gasps quietly, her bare back connecting with the cool wood. Her eyes fly to green and she feels her entire body throb at how unravelled the blonde looks.

“Or I can leave it on.” Charity croaks out.

Vanessa kisses her hard enough to bring out a surprised squeak before Charity’s arms wind around her neck. It’s desperate this time, far from the slow build up of the night before, teeth dragging at her bottom lip when she runs her fingers over a pebbled nipple. Vanessa revels in the sound when she snaps one of the belt clasps out of its place and strokes a hand along the inside of Charity’s thigh, making her gasp into her mouth. 

“I’m not even mad you managed to do that so easily.” Charity grins into another kiss.

Vanessa’s well aware of where they are, and exactly how inappropriate they’re being, but she still finds herself sinking to her knees and biting at the soft flesh of Charity’s leg. She waits for a second, whispering words against the skin as she notices the leg start to shake.

“You’re genuinely breathtaking, Charity.”

When she glances up, the blonde looks vulnerable for a beat. Vanessa knows that’s something she’s never been told. Not even close. And she hates it. But it quickly melts into something she recognises. Something she would name if she were brave enough.

Fingers splay out through Vanessa’s hair and grip tightly as she leans forward again. When she pulls the lace aside and runs her tongue through Charity, she hears a head thud back against the wall and the sharp hiss of her own name.

Soon. She’ll be brave enough soon.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanessa starts her exams while Charity is stuck at the pub.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The weeks have steadily gotten worse lately so writing this has actually been a form of respite. I'm sorry to bring in angst when our gals have finally got their shit together but hey - at least we get Ness back next week. I'll be counting down the days over on twitter, come say hi @bee_kudo.

She’s been to her fair share of grungy, rowdy house parties at uni, but Vanessa never thought she’d end up _hosting_ one. Rhona’s birthday was supposed to be a calm and collected affair with some of their course friends. Just the right amount of booze and the stereotypical drinking games which would get them drunk enough to stumble to McDonalds before they inevitably passed out. 

Obviously, in reality, Rhona’s latest fling, Pete, has invited half the boy’s rugby team, their girlfriends, and their girlfriends’ friends. So now, their tiny student flat is packed to the brim with boisterous idiots and bladdered blondes in mini skirts. 

Vanessa gets pinballed between bodies until she reaches the sink, where Pete’s five o’clock shadow is just visible behind Rhona’s neck. There’s enough cheap vodka in her system to rid her of any worries about disturbing them. 

“Rhona, our _one_ bathroom is locked with a bunch of plastered sobbing girls on the other side and I’m positive I just saw Libby leaving _my_ bedroom with a rugby lad.” Vanessa’s pissed, in every sense of the word. 

“That idiot’s in our Infectious Diseases lecture and yet she’s probably about to leave our flat with one.”

Rhona giggles as Pete attaches himself to her neck once again and Vanessa can only roll her eyes as she pushes lightly against his chest to try and give her best friend some of her attention. She’s obviously drunker than Vanessa had realised, her eyes glazed over and speech slurred.

“Ness it’s _fine_. Pete said most of ‘em are going onto clubs after this,” Rhona’s breath is laced with sambuca and it makes Vanessa recoil, “they’ll be gone soon.”

Glancing around the room, her eyes taking a second to follow the motion of her head, she can see an abandoned game of beer pong slowly etching ring marks into their kitchen table. If there’s _any_ form of wine stain on their carpet, she’ll kill someone. She needs that deposit back. Their stereo is blaring music in the corner, the choice of song definitely not from her own carefully curated playlist. Vanessa’s head begins to throb.

A wave of nausea comes over her as the tequila shots dance around her stomach and so she closes her eyes to steady herself, breathing in slowly through her nose. Immediately there’s a waft of something that settles her insides. The smell of the pub, mixed with that candle that burns on top of the kitchen counter, Chas determined that it keeps the scent of rancid ale out of their living room. 

There’s something about the smell of the pub that feels like home to Vanessa. The lingering second hand smoke woven into the booth cushions, steaming plates bringing with them the flavours of Marlon’s kitchen, that woody scent that seeps out from the beams along the ceiling. That and the way Charity’s perfume drags under her nose every time she hands her a fresh pint or wordlessly asks for help with her crossword.

Vanessa groans and screws her eyes shut tighter. How is it possible to miss someone this much after a few days.

It doesn’t help when the back of her eyelids shows her the image of Charity sauntering into her bedroom and dropping her dressing down. Her body writhing under Vanessa’s hands after she’d finally been able to peel the black lace from her skin, piece by piece and slowly, like it should have been the first time.

When her eyes open again, she’s bitterly disappointed to find herself standing in exactly the same spot, still surrounded by a crowd of people she’s thoroughly disinterested in. Rhona and Pete have disappeared from the kitchen and Vanessa can’t seem to summon the energy in her tipsy state to shake off the gloom and pretend to enjoy herself anymore. This was supposed to be their last hurrah before exams, a fun night with her best mate and a load of rubbish plonk. What a joke.

A sharp shout of _“excuse me”_ has the crowd parting enough to let her through until she reaches the closed door of her bedroom, thankful when she finds it unlocked and slips in to shut it firmly behind her. A thunk sounds out when Vanessa lets her head fall back against the wood and she briefly contemplates going back into the void to get herself a glass of water for her head. It doesn’t take her long to think it over before deciding against it and flopping down onto her duvet face first instead.

For a moment, she lets her mind slow down and feels her limbs gradually sink into the mattress, the weight of the alcohol buzzing around behind her eyes. Then the vibration zones in near her hip and gathers more of a rhythm. It takes her a good few seconds to realise her phone is going off where it’s tucked into the waistband of her underwear under her dress. Fumbling around the fabric, she doesn’t stop to check the caller ID, assuming Rhona’s calling to apologise for bailing on the disaster of a party she’d so thoughtfully organised. 

“What’s wrong?” The voice on the other end isn’t Rhona’s. 

It’s the low voice that makes all the hairs at the nape of her neck stand up and her blood sing. But the voice is concerned and Vanessa worries for a minute that somewhere along the line tonight, she’s drunk called Charity without realising. 

“Nothing...nothing, I’m okay. Why? Did I leave you a stupidly embarrassing voicemail?” She buries her head into her pillow, muffling her groan of dread slightly. 

Charity’s voice comes reassuring through the speaker.

“No, no drunk calls or messages, _unfortunately_. Just -” She trails off sounding unsure of herself and it tugs at something in Vanessa’s stomach. She waits patiently, letting the phone rest against her cheek.

It’s pathetic how just having Charity on the end of the phone seems to erase all of the tension coiled around her muscles. 

“I dunno, I got a feeling.” Charity hesitates, “Just got this weird..ache or something in my chest...felt like you.”

Vanessa pushes herself up off the mattress slightly at the confession, shuffling until she’s against her headboard and tucking herself under the covers with her free hand. Her heart is drumming a little harder now.

“I’m alright, promise.” She keeps her voice soft, her eyes fluttering shut at the stark reminder of just how deep their roots run. 

Charity doesn’t respond. Vanessa can hear what sounds like the click of a door shutting and she calms her mind by picturing the blonde sliding between her own sheets, settling tiredly against the pillows after her shift. 

She’s not convinced, Vanessa can feel it.

“I drank a bit too much and Rhona’s ‘ _Mr Popular’_ boyfriend ended up inviting the entire uni to our box room of a flat...but otherwise.. I’m fine.”

There’s a relieved sigh and the rustle of a duvet on the end of the line. “So that _dickhead_ ruined your party for your best mate then?” It’s gentle, Charity’s only bite evident when she alludes to Pete.

“A bit, yeah. She doesn’t seem to mind though..” Vanessa mumbles, “hoping she’ll be just as pissed as me when she sees the state of the lounge in the morning.”

It’s already making her head pound just thinking about scrubbing their table clean and shoving sticky bottles into bin bags. She’s usually one of the drunken idiots spilling her Blastaway on someone else’s floor. Oh how the tables have turned.

“Have they all buggered off now? Or has she left you to deal with all of them on your own?” Charity’s tone suggests she’d quite like to give Rhona a piece of her mind. “Leeds isn’t that far, if you need backup.” 

Vanessa smiles like an idiot and rolls her eyes before remembering that Charity can’t actually see her. She tries to focus on the noise coming from the other side of the door; she can still hear the thumping music but the voices seem to have evaporated.

“Easy Rocky,” her grin widens when she hears Charity chuckle in response, “I think they’re gone now. I don’t wanna go out there yet though.”

The corners of the duvet are pulled higher over her frame until Vanessa’s flat on her back, closing her eyes again to try and escape the flashing spots across her vision. She waits until it doesn’t feel like the room is spinning anymore and listens quietly to the sound of Charity’s gentle breaths for a minute.

“It’s her birthday at the end of the day...she was happy so, s’all that matters ey?”

A few seconds of silence passes between them, sleep gradually setting into both their bones. If she pushes past the drunk haze in her mind, she can just about focus hard enough to image herself tucked under Charity’s chin, the smell of the blonde’s skin invading her nostrils rather than her own manky breath and...is that cigarette smoke? Wow, people really have no etiquette…

“What about you sunshine, happy?” Charity murmurs.

“Talking to you, aren’t I?” She grins at her own shoddy attempt at being smooth, fully aware of the exaggerated eye roll she’s getting as a reply. 

“You’re drunk…” Charity laughs gently. As sleepy as she feels, the haze clears enough for Vanessa not to slur her next words.

“I’m _happy._ ”

There’s quiet. Vanessa knows she’ll have to get up again, scramble out of bed to turn off their stereo and do a sweep of the rooms before she can actually fall asleep. She also knows she needs to pull on her pyjamas and take her make-up off, even if it’s just a half-arsed scrub with a make-up wipe. But for now, she just wants to lay here, comfortable and warm, listening to Charity’s breathing even out on the other line. 

A content sigh leaves the blonde and Vanessa lets it wash over her. 

“Me too, kid.”

\----------------------------

Charity’s leaning on the end of the bar, pen gripped between her teeth when she hears her phone buzz from its perch near the till. She doesn’t move immediately, her eyes flitting over to Chas who glances back at her while beer slowly fills Jimmy’s pint glass. Her eyes roll so far back in her head Charity wonders if they’ll stay like that.

“What you looking at _me_ for? Never stops you normally.” She grumbles while Charity drops her pen onto her open page and slinks over to grab the phone. The blonde only flashes her a discreet middle finger when Chas mutters something under her breath.

“Anyone would think you’d been apart for months, it’s like she’s gone away to bloody war.”

The edge of the bar digs into her back as Charity leans against it to read the text. 

_*3 hours and counting to my second exam, that’s enough time for you to come and rescue me should you feel inclined…*_

Charity doesn’t really care when she hears Chas scoff at what must be a dopey grin across her features. She knows Chas understands their situation, more than she lets on, and sometimes she seems almost as pleased as Charity that Vanessa isn’t going anywhere. Almost. 

While their shifts have been getting busier in the stifling summer heat, Vanessa’s been drowning in revision notes and practice papers. She’s usually still up now when Charity finishes a late shift, calling her as soon as the clock hits midnight, most of the time just to check how her evening at the bar has been but sometimes it’s different. Some nights Vanessa is still at the library and just wants some company while she powers through flash cards, Charity happy to take the phone with her as she gets undressed and finishes her crossword in bed.

When she’s feeling particularly charitable she’ll even listen as Vanessa recites formulas and facts, writing down the right ones so she can correct her when she goes wrong. Not that she does very often. Not that she’s not an absolute brainbox that makes Charity envious and proud all at the same time.

_*Oh yeah, and what would all your mates say when you ditch them? How would you justify leaving them to face the music on their own hey?*_

She sends the message as Chas coughs, alerting her to a steady queue of people behind the bar. She pours pint after pint, wine spritzers and lager shandies, even a fancy gin and tonic for Nicola after she went on one pretentious night out in London and now won’t drink anything else.

“It’s -” Nicola starts.

“All the rage down South, yes we know Nicola, get it down your gullet and shut up will you.”

The smaller woman balks in offence briefly before glumly holding a hand out to accept her change and sulking over to a booth with Jimmy.

Charity groans and grumbles when the pub is busy but when she stops to think about it, that’s what she likes most about her job. The bustling hum always surrounding the bar, being sent to change a barrel or grab stock, days when she and Chas are skirting around each other serving punters like a well oiled machine. She doesn’t even really mind when she’s left to handle the stragglers. Be it the drunkards who are dreading going home to angry wives or the gaggles of girls heading onto clubs who sing tuneless songs while they wait for a cab. 

It’s the first time she’s felt useful, important almost, like she has a purpose. Her presence here isn’t just for anyone else’s gain, it doesn’t annoy or disgust anyone. Her job is to keep a valued part of the community running _and_ it keeps her occupied; being busy has always kept her mind from veering off into dangerous depths and reaching for the bottle herself.

She’s gathering pint glasses into a crate outside when she remembers her phone, hurrying to haul them back to the glasswasher so she can get back out to the bar. The screen displays not one new message when she unlocks it, but five.

_*I’ll tell them my absurdly gorgeous girlfriend has agreed these exams are too stressful and has offered me a job as a pot washer so essentially my degree is pointless.*_

_*Oh Christ, I didn’t even mean to type that it just happened.*_

_*Not that I hate the idea, at all, not even close, but obviously you might, and that’s fine.*_

_*Charity it’s been fifteen minutes and you still haven’t said anything and I’m starting to get nervous sweats.*_

_*I really shouldn’t have said anything, I’m sorry. Please text me back.*_

Charity’s stuck to the spot, blinking dumbly back at the string of messages as she feels her pulse quicken in her neck. 

Girlfriend.

Vanessa called Charity her girlfriend. Vanessa is panicking because she thinks Charity doesn’t _want_ to be her girlfriend. The same Vanessa who makes her heart pummel behind her ribs and makes her lose her breath by just looking at her.

The same Vanessa who is her _soulmate_ , and _knows_ it, is worried she’s scared Charity off with the word _girlfriend._

Charity’s not scared. Instead, she’s completely baffled still by the idea that this girl, this unbelievable woman, wants her. Not just behind closed doors for a few weeks until the novelty of this soulmate lark wears off and she decides she can do better. 

She wants people to know that Charity is hers, properly, fully.

“Back in two.” She throws to Chas as she rushes out of the bar, not bothering to check if it’s okay this time. She’s hit the call button before she’s even through to the living room.

It only gets to the second ring.

“Charity! Thank God! Look, I’m really sorry and I didn’t mean to put any pressure on you or worry you, I really just didn’t even think, I genuinely just thought that’s what I would say to them. Cos you’re not just my mate, well, you _are_ my friend, my best friend probably, but like..well you know, we’re not just friends are we..” Vanessa rambles so quickly, she almost trips over her own tongue, Charity’s grin spreading further into her cheeks with every word.

“Ness?” 

The rambling stops.

“Yeah?” Vanessa sounds nervous, really nervous, even more so than she had been about failing her exams every night this week.

“You know I’m your soulmate, right?” Charity tries not to make it patronising, keeping her voice soft.

Vanessa answers with an anxious hum.

“And you know I adore you...like - ‘never felt this way about anything or anyone before, didn’t even know I could’ - _adore_ you?” 

She doesn’t care how sappy she sounds for once, not when she’s got the image of a frantic Vanessa in her mind, more worried about Charity than any of the other thousand things she has on her plate these days.

‘Yeah..” She knows Vanessa is smiling slightly now, can hear it in her voice.

“You know you’re it? There’s no one else, I don’t want anyo-”

“Alright, _alright..._ stop before you make me cry like a right loon in the middle of a silent library.” 

Vanessa’s laugh is watery and Charity closes her eyes in relief. “Charity, is this your roundabout way of telling me you are okay with me calling you my girlfriend.” She sucks in a breath.

Charity shakes her head and suppresses a chuckle. This is important; of all the jokes she makes of her life, one disaster to the next, staying aloof about pretty much everything to protect herself, _this_ , is really bloody important. 

“Ness, I _am_ your girlfriend.” 

There’s a soft gasp and a pause where Charity feels her heartbeat in her ears.

After a few seconds Vanessa lets out another quiet laugh and a whispered _“okay”._ Charity releases the breath she'd been holding and moves to stand from where she's perched on the arm of the sofa, suddenly feeling a sharp tug in her stomach as she rises, a good one.

“I’ve got to go to Hotten to pick up stuff from a supplier later, so I might not be home when you get out. But just...don’t stress okay, you’ve got this.” She knows it won’t work magic but she’s hoping the words at least quell some of the panic racing around in Vanessa’s head.

“Thanks,” Vanessa sighs, “just let me know when you’re back, yeah?”

“Course, babe. Good luck.” She replies, ensuring there’s a weight to her words.

It seems daft in some way, of all the ways to describe Vanessa, the word _girlfriend_ seems too small. Insignificant in comparison to how she feels.

But it’ll do. 

Until they're ready, it’ll do.

\----------------------------

Vanessa hates exams. Sitting in silent rows, everyone around her radiating nerves, constantly checking if she has enough pens. It all makes her feel as though each aesthetically pleasing revision folder was worthless if every rational thought was just going to fly out of her head as soon as she sat down.

She can see Rhona positioned closer to the middle of the hall, their surnames having separated them by what seems like miles. They exchange panicked looks across the heads between them and Vanessa pulls her jumper sleeves further down her arms until her fingers are completely covered. Then she rolls them back up until they’re tight around her elbows.

Why did she wear a _jumper_? It’s over twenty degrees in a room full of sweaty nervous wrecks like her and those vicious fluorescent lights aren’t helping anything. 

The only thing that seems to stop her feet from repetitively tapping against the lino is replaying her conversation with Charity, over and over again. Her girlfriend, Charity.

A smile tugs at the corner of her lips and she decides to compromise, pulling her sleeves back down just far enough so she can still see her watch. Eventually, the big hand ticks towards twelve and she watches as each invigilator wanders up their assigned aisles ready for them to flip their papers over.

“Your two hours starts now, please open your papers.”

Their Clinical Skills professor is stood at the front of the room, looking annoyingly pleased with his authority as a wave of paper fluttering sounds across the hall. Pens are uncapped and everyone’s heads dip to get started.

The questions aren’t horrible like Vanessa had feared, she’s prepared enough to answer each one fairly quickly in the first section of the paper. She’s endlessly grateful for Charity running through flashcards with her, the image of each one coming to the forefront of her mind when she needs them. She reaches the next part and checks her watch, surprised when she sees she’s only forty minutes in, everyone else scribbling furiously around her. The tension in the room is still palpable.

She whips her head back to her own paper when she notices a stern, witchy looking woman eyeing her from the front. The last thing she needs now is to be chucked out for cheating. So she turns the corner of the page to face the second section when a searing pain hits her like a ton of bricks. 

A yelp leaves Vanessa’s mouth before she can stop it but she doesn’t have a chance to worry about the heads that have all curiously turned her way.

The pain winds her instantly, spreading like wildfire across her shoulder blades and down her entire left hand side. She pitches to the right, gripping onto her desk as the sound of footsteps grows louder around her, joining the ringing in her ears.

“Miss Woodfield...Vanessa?” The voice is concerned and an unfamiliar hand grasps her elbow hard enough for her to understand that they’re trying to help her up. 

She can just about walk, staggering slightly as two staff members ease her through the rows of students and out of the double doors into an empty corridor. Vanessa’s vision is hazy and she blinks rapidly to try and clear it, eventually catching her breath enough to notice the pain is gradually seeping into one section of her body, along the line of her ribs. 

This is frighteningly familiar.

“Miss Woodfield, where is the pain?” She recognises the voice of her lecturer but can’t quite get her own to work, heart beginning to thrash in her chest. When her two companions speak again, their voices are quieter than before, slowly fading out to background noise around her.

“She’s holding her left hand side, is that the appendix? We should call an ambulance, no?” A woman this time.

“No, no that’s the right. Get the First Aider in and in the meantime we call for an ambulance. Vanessa, do you have any conditions we need to know about, any medication you need?”

Vanessa starts to move a trembling hand below her jumper to feel at the skin, the pain gradually subsiding but the fear in her veins only flowing faster now. When she hits just above her belly button, a gasp leaves her, and she shrugs violently out of the hold they have around her shoulders.

She’s vaguely aware of them calling out after her as she runs from one corridor to the next, struggling for breath and scanning the walls until the sign for a disabled toilet catches her eye. Swinging the door open, she steps in and slams it shut behind her, flicking the lock into place and pulling on the light cord. It flickers for a second before illuminating the dingy tiles.

Shaking, Vanessa peels the hem of her jumper higher until she can see all of it. Her breath gets stuck in her throat and she chokes out a horrified sob.

Running from her ribs, along the side of her left breast until it reaches her armpit, is a long, scarlet, terrifying scar.

“ _Charity_.” 

It’s barely a word, just a strangled whimper. 

There’s someone knocking against the door but all Vanessa can focus on is stopping her hands trembling just enough to slide into her back pocket for her phone.

She scrolls through her list of contacts until she finds who she’s looking for and brings the phone to her ear, one hand returning to the mark and holding on for dear life. Like she can hold it together somehow. 

It rings. Once, twice, again and again until she reaches a generic voicemail message. 

“Come on, come on.” The tears in her eyes blur the screen as she tries to press the call button a second time. This can’t be happening.

No answer. “ _Shit!”_

Blinking a few times until the tears run down her cheeks, she scrolls one name down on her list and presses the call button again. 

The phone is picked up after the third ring. 

“Hello?” Chas’ voice is confused, evidently not having Vanessa in her own contacts yet.

“Chas! Chas, it’s Vanessa.” She doesn’t wait for a reply. “Where’s Charity?”

Chas stutters for a second before responding. “Uh, she- she’s in Hotten love, why? What’s wrong, you sound like you’re crying?”

Only then does Vanessa look back at herself in the mirror, hand clutching her skin, eyes frantic and bloodshot, pouring tears that are slowly sliding down her neck. 

“Something’s wrong... Chas, something is really wrong.” Vanessa’s voice is clearer this time, desperate to get the message across. They don’t have time for her to explain this now.

Chas must know, must understand, because then Vanessa can hear what sounds like keys and a door shutting somewhere in the pub. “How bad, Vanessa?”

She can’t bring herself to picture it, the reality. Wherever she is, broken, bleeding…

She feels sick.

“Call the police, Chas, find the car.” Vanessa sniffs and reaches for the door handle, preparing herself to barrel through whoever is still on the other side.

“I’m coming.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanessa gets back to her girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly more delayed than I'd hoped it would be but alas, it's up! I don't love writing the sad stuff but it's necessary sometimes. We'll see a bit more of Rhona and Ness' mum soon, I'm getting a vague idea of how I'll be bringing this to a close (not just yet). Thank you for reading and your lovely comments as always :) Twitter @bee_kudo

Everything in Vanessa’s mind is moving at a hundred miles an hour. She hasn’t even bothered finding a seat; somehow standing and pacing the carriage seems easier than making any pointless attempt to sit still. There’s a bloke sitting near the doors, crisp suit and creased brow, occasionally surveying her like he’s worried she’ll throw herself in front of a train at the next stop. She can’t blame him.

She hasn’t changed, but now her jumper lays skew-whiff across her shoulders and she knows from her reflection in the window that she’s resembling something manic. Deathly pale, eyes bordered by red rings and every muscle twitching in her impatience. They’re two stops from Hotten, where Faith will be waiting for her. Just two stops now.

There’s been radio silence from Chas and it’s not helped her nerves, shot to pieces and leaving her almost frail. Vanessa had hung up on her and bolted, ignoring calls of her name and sprinting her way through a trio of paramedics as they entered the building. She didn’t care. She wasn’t even thinking. Her feet just carried her to the station, sun beaming down on her head, forming sweat beads that burnt her eyes as she ran. What was normally a twenty minute walk was a ten minute run, getting her onto the platform just as the doors of her train began to close.

The only thing Vanessa’s got is a seven word text message that she’s clinging onto for dear life. 

* _Mum will be by the bus station._ *

Where they’ll be going, she dreads to think about.

The brakes on the train screech like nails on a chalkboard when they reach their last-but-one stop. Just painful enough to penetrate the fog behind her eyes.

Thousands of scenarios flash before her, like a montage of progressively more terrifying movie scenes. Charity mugged and left for dead in the town centre; Charity thrown through the windscreen of her car; Charity caught in the crossfire of someone else’s fight.

It’s been two years she’s been safe, unharmed. For two whole years, a shard of glass to the hand has been the only thing to remind them that this is real. Naivety, Vanessa had in _spades_ . Nothing like this was ever going to happen again. Not now they had each other, _it couldn’t._

They’d fall hard, madly, she’d finish uni and they’d eventually get their own space to build a future. They’d have a gigantic sofa for Charity to nap on, a coffee machine standing proud on their kitchen counter for early morning call outs, splashes of yellow interspersed despite her girlfriend’s grievances - flowers in a vase, an artsy print above their bed, her jacket on the coat stand. But Charity wouldn’t really mind, she’d even allow sunflower bedsheets and delicate scatter cushions eventually. 

Because she’s Charity. 

A woman who Vanessa knows would give her the world if she asked for it. But she won’t. Vanessa doesn’t need the world, just Charity, in her entirety. 

She feels like stomping her feet violently on the ground, screaming to whatever higher power may exist, that she doesn't _need_ the world. They can take whatever they want from her, anything at all, as long as Charity is okay.

It’s only as the screeching stops and new passengers begin to board that she’s able to hear her ringtone going off. Her heart is jammed in her throat as she yanks it out of her pocket.

“Chas, have you got her? Is she okay, where is she?” Vanessa’s voice is a strangled shout and several heads twist in her direction.

“Vanessa, breathe.” She tries, all airways seemingly clogged. “How far away are you?”

“Ten minutes max, Hotten’s the next stop.” Vanessa barely takes pause for breath. “Where is she Chas?”

She almost asks if Charity’s hurt, pain seizing her chest when she realises that she already knows the answer to that question. She grips her side unconsciously. Chas sounds calm, like she’s more concerned with keeping Vanessa from pulling her hair out with worry.

“Mum’ll bring you to the hospital, okay?” 

Vanessa's hand begins to shake and she automatically moves closer to the doors, ready to hit the concrete as soon as they pull to a stop. 

“Chas -” She starts.

“She’s alive, but she’s in a bad way, Vanessa. It was an accident.”

She didn’t know it was possible to feel such relief and agonizing fear at the same time. The two collide in her chest and jolt her forward, forehead leaning on the handrail next to her for a moment. She tries to talk but it comes out more like a cry, so she heaves out a breath and tries again.

“What’s happening?”

There’s the telltale sounds of an A&E department in the background and it makes Vanessa’s stomach sink. Beeping monitors, so many voices, distant sirens. Her nausea returns despite Chas’ reassuring words.

“She’s in surgery but they’ll come and get me as soon as they know anything at all. You’ll probably be here by then, love.”

Vanessa watches as the beginnings of a platform and a red brick building come into view, moving slowly across her vision as the train rumbles into Hotten. She’s already pressing the open button insistently before anyone else has risen from their seat. 

“I’m here, I’m on my way.” The doors stick slightly as they open and she shoves her hand in the gap, too anxious to wait. “Just...don’t let them take her anywhere, yeah? I’ll be there soon.”

Chas’ agreement is muffled as Vanessa crams the phone back into her pocket, running full pelt towards the gates. Bending left at the bottom of the stairs, she passes a rickety looking coffee cart with a queue of thirsty customers, all eyes glued to her as she speeds past. She can see the number fifty-six bus parked up on the other side of the automatic doors and she grinds to a halt.

It’s stupid, she knows, that she’s even entertaining the idea. The possibility that when that bus moves, leaning sultry and perfect against the door of a car, waiting for her, will be Charity. But she hopes anyway.

When the bus rolls away, even though she’s expecting it, the image looks wrong. 

There’s Faith, standing nervously by the passenger door. Her arms are folded in front of her, foot tapping away on the tarmac. When she spots Vanessa, her arms drop to her side and her head tilts in what she knows is sympathy. They’ve not really spent much time together, only introduced in passing, but if Faith’s expression is anything to go by, she knows enough.

Faith opens the door for her as she crosses the road and squeezes her shoulder lightly as she moves to slump into the front seat. Somewhere still in the back of her mind is her mother’s harsh voice telling her to be polite, “ _we don’t make a show of ourselves in public, it’s conceited_ ”, she should turn to Faith and thank her for picking her up, ask how she’s doing, say anything.

Instead, she lets tears roll freely down her cheeks as she leans her head against the window and Faith doesn’t push. She pats gently at her knee in between changing gears and turns the radio to a low hum. They’re driving down a slip road when Vanessa manages to turn towards her.

“Thanks, Faith.” It sounds like she’s been sobbing, screaming, her voice is so worn.

Faith simply merges into traffic and reaches to grip her hand, keeping her eye on the road.

“Not necessary love, there was no question.”

Vanessa knows she doesn’t have to keep it together. They’re giving her permission to break if she needs to, Chas and Faith, staying as calm and positive as they can on her behalf. She knows why Charity feels safe with them now. 

She nods in response, slipping a cool hand back under her jumper.

It rests over the scar, unmoving for the remainder of the journey.

\---------------------------

“She’s not out of surgery just yet, you’ll be called when she’s placed in a room.” The nurse looks up from her screen and points in the direction of a set of doors. “The waiting area is just through there, I believe the lady who accompanied her is still here.”

Vanessa is half way down the corridor before she can say any more, Faith murmuring a quiet _thank you_ and following her lead. They’d been stuck in traffic for twenty minutes, her heart steadily thundering in panic while Faith blasted her horn to no avail. Then it had taken them at least another ten to find a parking space. She’s fairly sure the spot they’ve left the car in isn’t actually a space but she hadn’t cared enough to mention it, heading straight for the entrance as soon as Faith had dealt with the stubborn pay and display machine instead.

The smell of the hospital flicks a switch in Vanessa’s mind and immediately she’s sat on a bed with eyeliner running down her cheeks, a kind nurse sewing stitches into her leg while Rhona holds her hand. Back then, she’d had no idea she’d have lips pressed delicately over that scar in less than a year’s time. The lips of someone who knew her. Who’d had a twin scar running across their own thigh. Someone who’d change everything.

The scene in the waiting room brings her sharply back to reality. There’s no Charity, just a sea of nervous families, some drinking bitter coffee from cardboard cups, some snivelling against shoulders, some staring vacantly at the walls. Vanessa spots Chas with her head in her hands, tucked against a vending machine. Her bag is on the empty seat next to her. Vanessa swallows hard when she notices Charity’s coat draped over the back, spatters of blood covering the fabric. 

“Chas, love?” Faith’s voice sounds from behind her and Chas’ head whips up to face them. 

They stare at each other for a second and Vanessa notes how ashen she looks. She’s suddenly reminded that she’s not the one who had to face whatever happened. _She_ sent Chas out to look for Charity with the knowledge of how badly hurt she was, knowing that if Chas found her, she’d have to see it.

The brunette rises from her chair and Vanessa immediately meets her halfway, engulfing one another in a hug so tight that it steals what’s left of her breath. 

“I’m sorry…” Vanessa starts, mumbling into dark curls.

“Don’t.” It’s a croak, but it’s earnest. “We’d have had no clue...I’d have been serving punters none the wiser.” Chas pulls back and holds her at arm’s length by the shoulders. Glazed eyes meet her own, determined.

“ _You_ got her here, not me.”

Vanessa feels tears hit the surface, brimming threateningly along her waterline. She can’t speak. If she does, she has to voice it out loud. 

Her fear. Something she doesn't think she can face without Charity, not this time.

So, she nods, managing a weak smile in return as Chas guides them back to the empty seats. Faith wavers, eventually rummaging around in her pockets for some change and heading towards the ancient looking coffee machine whirring loudly on the other side of the room.

Vanessa startles when Chas speaks again.

“She’d veered off the road, she was on her way back by the looks, a B road, only about ten minutes out of Hotten.” Chas’ voice is shaky but she pushes on as Vanessa holds her breath. “She’d gone into the side barrier, couple of cars bumped behind her and all.”

“Her side was bleeding and her head..and her head was sort of slumped forward…”

Chas pauses, inhaling slowly and swiping at her eyes while Vanessa remains rigid. The images are forming rapidly in her mind and she has to hold back the bile in her throat. 

“She had her seatbelt on though, wouldn’t usually peg her for the sensible one. Paramedic said it probably saved her…”

She just about manages to reach a hand out to Chas’ knee, squeezing tightly and meeting her watery gaze. Her words stick in her throat like syrup. 

“She’ll be alright, she’s got to be.” Vanessa believes that with steadfast ferocity.

They stay quiet for a while, somewhat distracted by the hum of people around them. Everything gradually reduces to white noise as Faith presses button after button trying in vain to produce a latte across the room. Vanessa declines the offer when a steaming cup is handed to her, instead gesturing for Chas to take it. 

She gives in after an hour, finally sipping on the scalding liquid while Faith downs what seems like her tenth cup. 

They haven’t heard anything, no one has come to find them. Vanessa has watched person after person file out of the room, some led by somber looking doctors, some leaving with their wounded family member, all patched up and ready to go home. She’s watching a reunion between a little girl with her arm in a sling and her relieved looking parents when someone calls out the name that stops her heart dead.

“Charity Dingle?”

The doctor gives them that weird half smile you give a stranger on the street and gestures for them to follow, all three of them having stood automatically. Unfamiliar fingers link between her own and she knows Chas is just as terrified as her. After a minute, they come to a stop outside a closed door, the doctor turning so his back is facing what looks like the room’s window, blinds tilted shut. 

He’s young, scrubs hidden underneath one of those long white coats she’d always seen on TV dramas. He’s still got a surgical cap on, it’s patterned unlike the rest of his getup and Vanessa knows he’s seen her, been in that theatre with her. 

“As you probably already know, Miss Dingle sustained some significant injuries in the collision, however, she’s stable.” The women heave out a collective sigh of relief. 

“We’ve had to fit a small plate to restore the structure in her left hand side,” his voice is monotone as he gestures to his own torso, “she’s very lucky all things considered, only two ribs were completely broken.”

Vanessa feels her own bones creak as she takes it all in, her breathing is far more laboured now. She tries to inhale deeply through her nose, finding it hard to fill her lungs properly. 

“We did encounter some internal bleeding but it’s been contained, so she’ll just need to be monitored carefully to ensure the smoothest recovery we can.” His clipboard is pulled towards his chest as though abruptly giving them the floor.

She finds it in her somewhere to raise her hand wearily across Chas’ shoulders. Whether it’s to reassure Chas or herself, she’s not really sure. Her feet are itching knowing that Charity is on the other side of the door.

“When can she come home?” Vanessa had almost forgotten Faith was lingering beside them. The tight lipped doctor begins to shake his head slightly.

“Not until all her levels are as we want them.” She knows it’s rational, realistic, sensible. But nothing about their relationship has been so far and she’d liked it that way.

“We can only discharge her once her stats are as positive and encouraging as possible.”

Like anything about this is positive and encouraging. 

Vanessa sees Chas nod her head in understanding despite feeling her muscles tense in between her shoulder blades.

“At the moment, we can allow two in the ward with her…” his eyes dart between the three of them with a raised brow.

Although it feels like the vice around her heart is closing further when she does, Vanessa turns to Chas and taps lightly at her back.

“You and your mum go.” Chas’ weary eyes blink confused back at her. “Chas, you need to see her back in one piece, yeah?” The brunette nods slowly as Faith cups Vanessa’s elbow to get her attention.

“I’ll come out and swap with you in a bit, love?”

Vanessa lifts her lips in a weak smile and watches as the doctor holds the door open for the two of them. It’s like a balloon; the anxiety building up inside her until she’s almost ready to pop, only to be unceremoniously let go, deflating rapidly and leaving her a limp bag of bones. She’s exhausted.

Dragging her feet, Vanessa collapses onto the first empty chair she sees. A couple are arguing at the vending machine. From what she can gather, the woman’s choice of chocolate bar, the one they’ve spent their last fifty pence on, was the wrong one. 

She almost laughs, but it gets stuck before it can turn into the sob she feels deep in her gut. They have no idea. Vanessa would let Charity pick a Toffee Crisp a thousand times over as long as she was happy. As long as she was alright.

It was the right thing to do, she knows that, letting Chas go first. But as the minutes tick by, her regret only worsens. A bright sign above the reception desk warns her not to use her phone, but she reckons one glance at her texts can’t hurt anyone. Their thread is a mixture of sappy messages, flirty one liners and extravagant tales of the lives of a barmaid and a student. She lets out a hoarse chuckle when she scrolls to a rant Charity has sent her a few days earlier, spitting nails about some farmhand that tried telling her how to pour a pint.

Eventually there’s a tap on her shoulder as she reaches a particularly filthy joke she’d been sent in the library. It leaves her conflicted when she smiles, like she shouldn’t be feeling anything except her worry and devastation. 

“Go on pet, your turn ey?” Vanessa searches Faith’s eyes for any sign of panic, horror, pity. There’s nothing. The breath she takes feels easier now but her legs are still wobbly when she stands, like unset jelly. 

She doesn’t pause as long as she’d thought she would when she reaches the door. 

There are four beds in Charity’s ward, the two that her eyes first reach are both occupied by frail looking women, neither one surrounded by family. The third bed is empty. She’s got the corner bed, right under the seemingly pointless window. Chas is holding her hand but for some reason, she’s chosen not to sit in the chair they’ve provided for her.

She glances up when the door squeaks gently and Vanessa steps further inside.

“She’d do her nut in seeing her hair like this.” 

As Vanessa gets closer, she can see that it’s been ruffled and knotted, probably where they’ve cleaned the blood out of her hair, a strip of gauze peeking out from under her hairline. She briefly lifts her own fingers to her forehead automatically.

Her eyes scan the rest of Charity. She’s pale, too pale, her skin completely void of its usual glow. Small scratches litter her cheeks, Vanessa assumes it’s from the glass of the windscreen and winces briefly imagining it. She’s sporting a purple bruise underneath her left eye, hues of green and blue speckling the edges like some sort of painful oil painting. It’s like looking at the version of Charity she knows existed but she’s never known herself. Black and blue once again.

But she’s perfect. 

Vanessa feels her knees threaten to buckle when the overwhelming reality of how this could have ended hits her square in the chest. Reaching out for the foot of the bed, she steadies herself and notices Chas place a limp hand carefully back on the sheets. 

“Nurse came in to check on her a few minutes ago, said it’ll be a good few hours before she comes round...hey, hey Vanessa, it’s alright, love. She’s okay!”

Chas is next to her then and Vanessa swipes gingerly at her cheeks to find them soaked, fingers trembling slightly. 

“Just -” her voice breaks, “just can’t help thinking of all the times she _should_ have been here before. If anyone had _cared_ enough to bring her.”

An arm loops around her shoulders and she sniffs hard to reel the tears back in. Chas is quiet when she speaks again. 

“How many?”

Vanessa won’t talk about Charity like she’s not here. No matter how many selfish lowlifes have neglected her humanity, _she_ won’t. She can’t. It’s not her story to tell or a burden to claim as her own. 

“Too many.”

\---------------------------

There’s a kind of heaviness behind Vanessa’s eyes that you only get when you’ve done more than one all-nighter at the library, or when you’ve cried so hard for so long that they feel overworked, completely bloodshot.

It’s been three hours. A nurse attempted to coax her out of the room half an hour ago, muttering something about policies and rules in a voice that suggested Vanessa looked like she shouldn’t be messed with. Eventually, she’d backed out of the room defeated, not heartless enough to tear her from her place, head resting on her elbows by Charity’s side.

Faith had brought her a selection of the vending machine’s finest before taking Chas back to the pub. Vanessa had nodded and managed a tired smile, agreeing with the fact that Chas needed some rest away from the flickering ward lights and rigid plastic chairs. A promise to call when Charity woke and a steady hug had been enough to convince her to go home.

As far as Vanessa was concerned, she wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon; despite the agreement she’d overheard between Faith and the helpless nurse that she would come back for Vanessa as soon as she could. 

She’s got one hand slipped into Charity’s and the other resting over her own scar, quiet and settled, when her phone vibrates in her jeans. Trying to reassure herself that she can leave Charity for a few minutes, she stands and opens the door just wide enough for her to get through and answer the call. 

“Hello?” It doesn’t surprise her that she sounds half asleep.

“Ness, are you alright? Where the _hell_ are you?” Rhona. Of course. Like sprinting out of an exam after wailing like a banshee in pain was going to go unnoticed. 

“I’m fine, Rhona.” She feels guilty for the impatience in her voice and she hates lying, but this isn’t the time or the place she thought she would have to explain. Not under these circumstances. “Grumbling appendix apparently, I’m home.”

“Oh,” Rhona sounds unconvinced, “so you’re not in hospital anymore? We heard the sirens, that witchy looking woman looked a right fright when she came back in.”

“No, no...home now. My mum got me. Got some cracking painkillers and an order for some rest.” As a doctor approaches, she tries to cover the microphone as much as she can, keeping her fingers crossed that it’s too late for tannoy announcements.

“Well...what are you gonna do about exams? Are you coming back or..?” 

Vanessa sighs heavily, “I’ll probably have to retake them or something, I can’t leave…” she worries her lip, “I can’t take them like this.”

Anxious, she curses at the blinds in the daft window, angled so that Charity is just out of view. Rhona sounds bewildered but understanding, Vanessa’s already dreading the conversation she’s eventually going to have to have. 

“Can’t believe it, we were so close to getting through the year, hey?”

She laughs gently, that’s not even the _half_ of it.

“So close, yet so far. Can you do me favour and send me the number for the department office?” She hears Rhona hum agreement on the other end. “Thanks, I’ll call them tomorrow and try to sort something.”

“No worries, and call me, yeah? Let me know when you’re coming back so I can pretend I haven’t been stealing your new shoes.”

Vanessa’s grateful for it, really. She may be in for a bit of a shitstorm, but for now, it needs to just be one more thing she’ll handle when she can. For now, all she can find the energy to care about is Charity’s eyes opening, hearing her name from cracked lips and laughing at her girlfriend’s rubbish jokes.

“Course, thanks Rhona.”

She can cross the other bridges when she comes to them.

\---------------------------

“Have I been hit by a truck?” 

The gruff voice has her head snapping up so quickly that it sends a twinge of pain shooting through her neck. Charity’s eyes aren’t open yet but she’s almost a hundred percent sure she didn’t just imagine those words.

Vanessa stands, leaning over the side just enough to slide one hand carefully around the blonde’s jaw. Her hands are shaking now, heart jumping from it’s flagging thud into a frenzy. 

“Charity?” It’s fractured, but it encourages both eyelids to ease open, dazed and confused until they settle on Vanessa. “Hi.”

The weak grin she gets in response brings a broken laugh out of her throat. Vanessa leans in closer, pressing a firm kiss to the unmarred patch of skin on her forehead, lingering long enough to blink back the tears that threaten to escape. Charity’s voice is scratchy when she speaks again.

“What happened, memory’s fuzzy.” 

Vanessa clears her throat, breathing in slowly before she can look back at the eyes she’s been without for too long. Her heart still skips anyway. 

“You came off the road..smashed into a wall. I was in an exam…” she trails off, glancing down at where she knows gauze covers half of Charity’s body. The blonde follows her gaze and when her eyes flicker back to Vanessa’s, they’re crystal clear, an unsteady arm reaching out to her own side where she’s standing next to the bed.

“Ness?” 

The worry in Charity’s voice splits her chest and she tries her best to smile. “I’m fine, you daft mare! You remember how this works, right?”

Vanessa’s pulled closer by a feeble tug on her hand, easily falling into her place at Charity’s side, careful to lean as gently as possible against the blonde’s arm. She strokes a thumb lightly over the back of Charity’s fingers, lifting them slowly to her mouth to rest her lips comfortingly against them. 

When she asks the question, it’s a mumble against her girlfriend’s skin. 

“Do you remember what happened?”

For a second, she thinks the answer is no, Charity’s eyes screwed shut as if trying to find the memory somewhere in the crevices of her mind. But when she’s met with the emerald she adores, it’s uneasy. Afraid. She remembers.

“I saw him.. in Hotten.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charity recovers and Vanessa faces her fears head on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I needed to write something deep and fluffy after the monumental, festering turd that is ED's new storyline came out. I hope this brings a bit of the real vanity back to your minds. In the meantime, while the next few weeks slowly kill us all, I shall still be around on twitter to rant to/with about it all @bee_kudo.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, you lovely lot!

She looks so peaceful, almost as though she hasn’t been through hell and back in the past twenty-four hours. Vanessa’s taking small comforts in each rise and fall of her chest as she sleeps soundly, slender hand still twisted around Vanessa’s own. The chair digs into her side where she’s curled up against its back and she’s fairly sure both of her legs are numb, but she hasn’t moved in two hours, desperate to make sure that Charity gets some rest. 

There’s dried streaks across Charity’s cheeks where hot tears have baked into the skin, her hair forming signature curls around her eyes now instead of slicked back behind her hairline. It makes Vanessa ache. Everything from relief, to anguish, to crippling fear have exhausted her body, but her heart still thrashes around inside her as she moves tired eyes over her girlfriend’s form.

Every now and again she plays back their conversation, her stomach clenching each time, fingers tensing around Charity’s. 

\- - - - - - - - -

“Charity..”

“He was outside the bank, on the phone to someone I think.” 

Vanessa doesn’t know how to play it, choosing to trust the lack of waver in Charity’s voice and pressing her lips firmly to the blonde’s palm. “He didn’t see you, did he?” 

It’s suddenly their biggest concern. He can’t find her again, not after all this time.

“No. I…” Charity stops, pulling a lip harshly between her teeth. She blinks once and when her eyes return to Vanessa’s, they’ve got an unmistakable sheen to them. “I didn’t stick around...I think I started running. I only clicked that I was in the car once I was back on the main road.”

She knows she shouldn’t be surprised that he’s still out there living his life, free man, free conscience. Yet it baffles her how anyone can do the things he’s done and walk around like nothing can touch him, while Charity is trapped, living with the memory of his vile abuse every single day.

“I remember thinking that if I could just get out of Hotten, I’d be fine, I could pretend I was driving to Leeds.”

Vanessa watches a tear of her own run quickly over Charity’s knuckles, disappearing under the tubes attached to her arm. She curses the fact that her own voice is weaker than her girlfriend’s, cracking as she understands just how close Charity had come to losing her life, to him, again. How her first thought to escape it and find safety, was Vanessa. 

“To me.”

It’s not a question but Charity nods her head anyway, almost sheepish at the admission. Vanessa kisses the pad of each finger with as much intention as she can muster while the blonde blinks back more tears. 

“I was doing fine until I looked in my rear view, I - I swear he was there, Ness, I swear he..” she tries to fend off the sobs that threaten to wrack through her body, pulling in oxygen slowly and shaking her head until Vanessa brings their foreheads together. 

All it takes is Vanessa’s hand cradling her face and soft whisperings of _“it’s alright”_ before Charity crumples. 

“It’s alright. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

\- - - - - - - - -

The creak of the door hinge is what finally drags her eyes from Charity. 

Chas is standing in the doorway, looking unsure as to whether or not she should be disturbing them - Vanessa moulded to the chair, practically part of the furniture, a hand still dutifully locked in her cousin’s while she sleeps.

Using her other hand to beckon Chas forward, Vanessa smiles gratefully when she notices a brown paper bag accompanying a steaming coffee cup, the smell of bacon wafting under her nose. Both are placed on the small rolling table at the side of the bed while she shakes off her jacket.

“Brought provisions. This is _real_ coffee,” she passes the drink into Vanessa’s free hand, “and the sarnie is courtesy of Marlon don’t worry, wouldn’t let my mother near a frying pan.”

“Thank you.” She sips slowly on the liquid, letting her eyes shut for a moment as the warmth floods her system. 

Chas looks less haggard than Vanessa feels, her dark eyes roaming warily over her cousin while she leans against the end of the bed. It had been late when Charity had come round, but Chas was still up and out of the pub doors before Vanessa had even hung up the phone. There’s a fierce loyalty between the two Dingles, it’s obvious. Vanessa would probably be jealous if she weren’t so grateful.

“How was she?” The brunette sounds anxious.

“She was alright, considering.” Vanessa turns her head back to face her girlfriend. “Tired, shocked, more worried about me than herself.” The last part is laughed but Chas can see the disbelief etched into Vanessa’s expression.

“She’s a plonker, but she cares more about you than I think I’ve seen her care about anything since I’ve known her.” Chas declares easily. 

Vanessa doesn’t move her gaze, watching the blonde doze calmly while her own heart falls into step with the steady beeping of the machines. Dwelling on what could have been takes a back seat for a minute, instead she lets herself be soothed by the pulse she can feel against her wrist. There’s no quiver to her words now.

“Yeah, well that makes two of us.”

When she gently squeezes Charity’s hand, there’s immediately a set of fuzzy eyes on her own, the green only dulled ever so slightly in her daze. Finding Vanessa still in the same spot, roots firmly planted into the uncomfortable plastic of her seat, Charity sighs deeply and manages a soft grin.

“Well, I might as well have stayed at home apparently.” 

The blonde’s head jerks to the right to find the source of the voice, wincing sharply when her neck seems to stop halfway. Vanessa’s out of her chair and has a warm hand around her nape before Charity can breath a hello. 

“Shall I get someone?” Vanessa asks, panicked. 

Chas watches them with knitted brows as Charity grunts in place of shaking her head and draws Vanessa down onto the side of the thin mattress, curling an arm around her back until she can rub reassuring circles onto Vanessa’s hip. 

Eventually, bracing herself for any twinge, Charity turns back to face the brunette, her eyes serious.

“Thank you, Chas.” 

It seems to throw her for a second but she knows there’s no underlying sarcasm this time. So, for once, she doesn’t dish out any in return.

“Course.”

Charity smiles gently, rubbing a thumb across her girlfriend’s knuckles, her gaze only leaving Chas’ when Vanessa runs fingers through her knotted hair, separating the curls with enough care that green eyes flutter closed.

“Vanessa, Mum’s down in the café if you want to go and grab a shower or some kip.” 

Hands pause their movements as Vanessa shuffles impossibly closer to Charity. Then as quickly as she’d stopped, she starts up again, tucking the smoothed strands behind the blonde’s ear when she speaks. 

“I’m alright, I got forty winks in-”

“Liar.” Charity interrupts. She knows full well that the bags under her girlfriend’s eyes and the way her jumper keeps itching her around the elbows, are consequences of an all nighter.

Vanessa’s mouth opens and closes like a fish for a few moments before resigning herself to the truth and leaning her head heavily against the blonde’s. Chas watches with a sly grin.

“Ness, come on. Chas will be with me. Let Faith take you to Leeds, you can come ba-”

“Leeds?! Charity, no..” Vanessa’s heart plummets.

“Listen.” Charity pauses for a second, glancing over to her cousin with a weary smile. “Give us a minute, I’ll send her out, yeah?”

Chas doesn’t argue it, slipping out of the ward before she can get caught in the crossfire. 

“I’m not leaving you, I can shower at the pub and wear your stuff until you’re better, or I’ll get Rhona to post some things…” She trails off, wondering how much it would cost her to box up a few weeks’ worth of clothes. 

A finger under her chin stops her train of thought. Charity’s eyes are glistening, so resolute that Vanessa feels her chances of losing this fight climbing higher by the second.

“You need to go. I’ll be fine, I _am_ fine.” Vanessa scoffs at this but holds her tongue when she gets an unimpressed look from the blonde. 

“I _am_. But mainly, you left that place like a tornado, mates worrying your stomach had blown up, exam paper just sat there.” Charity persists, feeling her girlfriend practically vibrate with all the excuses she’s conjuring in her mind. She can’t give her time to use them.

“Go to the flat, grab a load of stuff, play the family emergency card with whoever you need to and then come back when you smell better and have had some sleep.”

A small smile doesn’t quite mask the horror the way Vanessa hopes, especially when she tries and fails to discreetly hide an armpit sniff. Charity leans to place a tender kiss against her temple and she melts.

“You can’t stay here all day Ness, you know you can’t.”

Vanessa knows it makes sense. At this time, and with Faith driving, it’ll be forty-five minutes max to her flat; she can shove every clean piece of clothing she owns into a holdall and be back in the car in time for official visiting hours. Then they can bring Charity home, properly. 

God, she hates not being the voice of reason.

“Charity, what if..”

“I won’t.” Charity cuts in, lips in one firm line that Vanessa wants to kiss back into a smirk. 

She can’t move yet, somewhat glued to her girlfriend’s side and quite frankly petrified that the minute she moves, it could all fall apart. Reaching for her own scar under her jumper on instinct, Vanessa flinches when her cold fingertips meet the skin. 

Logic has always been her driving force. It’s how she sailed through her classes, how she reasoned her mother's glacial behaviour, how she comforted herself in the wake of her dad’s absence. The only thing that had ever threatened what she’d always relied on, was the appearance of a new scar. The thing she couldn’t explain or justify away. 

Logic was useless now. Logic couldn’t explain Charity, and she didn’t need it to. 

Vanessa hates that it’s chosen this moment to come back and bite her in the arse.

It’s a few seconds before she registers the warm hand that’s come to cover her own over the mark. Glancing down at Charity, light fingers come to tuck wayward strands of hair out of her face. She knows she’s lost.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Charity’s lips turn up in a slight smirk and Vanessa feels her heart jump at the sight. “Thought you’d gotten over the fact that you’re stuck with me.”

For once, Vanessa’s the one rolling her eyes as she presses her forehead firmly into the blonde’s. If she goes now, she’ll just about be back in time for official visiting hours, they’ll get less grief from the nurse…

Vanessa sighs as she pushes into Charity, kissing her softly with one hand wrapped gently around the back of her neck, heartbeat sounding louder behind her ribs as she feels Charity lean into her. When she pulls back, it’s only just enough so that she can look her girlfriend straight in the eyes, fingers pressing into her skin to focus her attention. 

“I love you, you know that don’t you?”

Gaze heavy and honest, Charity’s eyes dilate at the confession. She smiles. 

“I know. I love you too.”

Vanessa waits for a beat, imprinting the words into every fibre of her being and making sure there’s no trace of hesitation in Charity’s eyes, no silent plea for her to stay, before she kisses her again. 

Brushing a thumb over the blonde’s cheek, she checks a final time. Charity just nods. 

Then she moves forward an inch, laying her lips soundly against Vanessa’s forehead and squeezing her hand where it still rests over her scar. 

“Go.”

\----------------------

“Okay, so I send those to which office, exactly?” She doesn’t really have the energy for this, but somewhere in the back of her mind is Charity’s rarely used sensible tone telling her to get it over with. 

_“Your mentor in the department, they’ll send it onto the right people for you.”_

The woman on the other line has hardly been sympathetic, more convinced that Vanessa’s finding an out like hundred of other students. She’d spent a few minutes monotonically reeling off the steps they need to take, proof of Charity’s admittance to hospital and a copy of Vanessa’s name in visitation logs, _if_ she can get the not-so-friendly nurse to provide them. They’ll be up for review and only _then_ will she avoid the ‘penalty’, whatever that means.

Vanessa must sound as drawn as she feels because even the seemingly uncaring admin assistant doesn’t bring up the question of her exam outburst. She has to resit anyway, and she really could _not_ care less about that.

“Okay fine. Thanks for your help.” Faith signals as they pull up to a set of traffic lights, looking over at her with a supportive smile. 

_“Not a problem, Miss Woodfield. Take care now.”_ It’s sickly sweet and oh so fake.

Vanessa mumbles a goodbye and drops her phone into the empty cup holder as they pull into a side street. It’s pouring with rain, the windscreen wipers on full speed as grey clouds darken to black above them. There are a few obnoxiously large office buildings being built in the centre of Leeds, giant slogans branded across construction boards claiming they’re “bringing the city into the millennium”. 

But for now, they’re just pillars of concrete and scaffolding, looming over the quiet streets while Vanessa longs desperately to be surrounded by the thatched cottages of Emmerdale, curled up in front of the pub’s log burner while Charity pulls pints for grumpy farmers. 

“Which way am I goin’, love?” Faith’s voice is gentle but it still startles her. She scoots up further in her seat and points towards a turning further along the road.

“Next left, sorry.” She clears her throat. “We’re in one of the old terraced brick houses that look like they’re falling apart.”

The car trundles along until they reach the narrow street, Faith pulling in behind a dented transit van and yanking on the handbrake. Vanessa makes no move to get out of the car yet, instead mindlessly fiddling with the keys in her hands while she stares up at Rhona’s bedroom window. 

“Sooner you’re in, sooner you’re out.” A hand comes to rest lightly on her shoulder. “I’ll go get us some coffees for the way back, give you time to get your things together, ey?”

Vanessa nods and manages to turn and smile weakly at Faith before running a hand through her hair and easing the passenger door open. She pauses when she slots the key in their front door and turns back for a second, an overly enthusiastic thumbs up from Faith behind the window pushes the last sigh from her lips and she steps inside.

The stairs to their flat door creak under her feet and the noise echoes throughout the hall, Rhona will have heard her by now if she’s home. She doesn’t bother trying to muffle the sound of the second key in the lock. 

A head popping over the back of the sofa is the first thing she sees. Rhona looks her up and down in confusion before lifting herself up and towards Vanessa. Of course, wearing the same thing and looking like she’s been dragged through a hedge backwards probably isn’t the best way to reassure her best friend that everything is fine.

“Hey! You never said you were coming back so early?” She edges towards the dining table, leaning up against a chair with her arms crossed. Vanessa shoves her hands into her pockets and hopes her voice won’t betray her. 

“Just come to grab some things, got barely anything at home.” Leaving no room to give herself away she heads towards her bedroom, tensing her muscles when she hears Rhona’s footsteps following behind her. 

“Oh, okay. Well, are you alright? I thought you were supposed to be resting?”

Opening her wardrobe, she grabs the bag she’d used to bring half her belongings up to uni with her. It’s crumpled from where it’s been rammed into the small space between her trainers and spare laundry detergent. Vanessa is the worst liar, over the phone is one thing, but if she looks at Rhona she knows it’ll reveal everything.

“Yeah I’m fine, worst has passed now and I’m flying high on co-codamol so…” It doesn’t come out as light as she’d hoped, hands clumsy as they stack perfectly folded t-shirts into the bag. 

Rhona comes to sit on the edge of the bed, eyeing her every move. Vanessa knows this isn’t going to be left alone, her business never stays hers for very long. 

“Did your mum not bring you? Though even she’d want to help given your...state.”

Vanessa can only shake her head.

“Do you need a hand? I think there’s a pair of your jeans in my room if you want them.”

Her voice is calm but Vanessa knows it won’t take her long to snap. Rhona’s patience is limited on the best of days, especially when she’s also being egged on by her constant need to know everything about everyone, her fear of missing out practically suffocating her. 

“Yeah sure, thanks.” It won’t be enough to placate her. Evidently.

“What did the uni say about the exams? You gonna have to retake them?” Rhona tries again. 

Vanessa just hums an affirmative but it’s seemingly the straw that breaks the camel’s back.

“Okay Ness, _what_ is going on? You won’t even look at me and you’re walking around like nothing’s happened!” There it is. 

Vanessa finally looks up, heaving out a breath and dropping the socks she’s holding on top of the rest in the bag. Rhona’s eyes are wide, questioning, and it makes her squirm uncomfortably on the spot. Does she continue to try and cover this up, just dump some shoes in the bag and leave, hoping Faith turns back into the street before she can be followed? Or does she try and stop the inevitable fallout? Be brave?

“Look...it wasn’t me that got hurt, okay? Someone got into an accident and ended up in the hospital, that’s where I’ve been...where I’m going.” Vanessa clears her throat again and blinks rapidly as she watches Rhona eyebrows furrow.

“What are you on about? You screamed in the middle of an exam, they called an ambulance?” Rhona shakes her head. “Ness you’re not making any sense, why did you lie?”

The room starts to feel hot and Vanessa can hear how shallow her breathing’s become. Her hands are shaking but she reaches for the hem of her jumper anyway. Facing the music has never been her forté. 

Lifting the material up on her left hand side, she tugs until it bunches up around her ribs. A gasp leaves Rhona’s mouth and Vanessa watches anxiously as she stutters for a second, eyes scanning the long gash. 

“What the hell _happened_ to you?! You’re _obviously_ hurt!” Her voice is louder than Vanessa’s expecting and she lets the jumper fall back around her sides. She deflates, hands moving to push the bag further up the bed so that she can sit down opposite her friend.

“It’s not mine.” 

Rhona’s face screws up even more and Vanessa can see the cogs turning in her head to try and decipher what she means. Eventually the penny must drop, her eyes widening and one finger coming up to point at Vanessa’s ribs.

“The person you said was in the hospital? That...that’s your...you’ve got a _soulmate_?” She breaths.

Vanessa nods, trying not to let herself tear up at the sudden emotion coursing through her. Emmerdale has felt like a safe haven, a bubble completely outside of her real life where she can exist safely and happily with Charity. Nothing can touch them there. Or nothing could.

For the first time since she patched up Charity in that back room, she feels like she’s just waiting for someone to tell her it can’t be real. 

She tilts her head back towards the ceiling and bites down on her cheek until she can taste blood. Rhona’s waiting when she brings her gaze back down, twiddling her thumbs in her lap. 

“Her name is Charity.” Emboldened slightly by the reminder of her girlfriend and determined not to let Rhona hone in on the fact that she’s a she, Vanessa pushes on. “She’s kind and she’s gorgeous and for some daft reason she thinks the sun shines out my arse, but I love her.” 

It’s silent for a minute or two, complete crickets, the only noise coming from where Vanessa’s jeans rub against the duvet as her knee shakes nervously. Rhona seems to be searching for the right thing to say, Vanessa can’t tell if she’s building up to a list of uncomfortable questions or if she’s just plain freaked out. After what feels like an eternity, a horn blares outside making both of them jump.

“Uh, that’s for me.” Vanessa stands, throwing a few extra pairs of underwear and her notebook into the bag before zipping it shut and hauling it over her shoulder. The second beep from outside has her feet moving towards the door, swallowing the unbelievable pain that _this_ is how they leave things, her best friend completely incapable of supporting her, feeling happy for her.

“Ness, hang on a sec.” A hand wraps around her arm as she moves past the living room. Apprehensive, she turns back.

“I hope she’s alright. Maybe..” Rhona slides her hand down to Vanessa’s and squeezes tight, “Maybe once she’s better, you can bring her here, we can go to town or something?”

There’s something clogging Vanessa’s throat and she tries not to cry in relief, instead pulling her friend into her for a fierce hug. Her only words are a whisper into mousey hair. “Thank you.”

\----------------------

Their journey back isn’t as dreary. Faith turns the radio on and fiddles about until some cheesy eighties tune fills the car. Vanessa sips on her mostly-cold coffee and lets her feet tap rhythmically against the floor. 

They stop at the pub, giving Vanessa a chance to spend a long while under the hot shower and place some of her things into Charity’s chest of drawers. She finds the t-shirt, the one Charity had tugged over her head the week before, the one she knows the blonde wears when she needs to feel at home. She pulls it on, stopping to smell the fabric before finding herself a pair of jeans. 

The ward is busier by the time they wander through the waiting room and she smiles when she sees through the window that the two elderly women aren’t alone, accompanied on both sides by what looks like their children. Visiting hours must make a hospital ten times more dispiriting when you have no one by your side. 

Chas and Charity have playing cards piled up on the small patch of level bedding, each too focused on what ones they’re putting down to notice Vanessa and Faith entering the room. 

“ _Snap_ !” Chas yells. “ _Ha_ ! You lose. _Twice_ in a row. My my, are we losing our touch?”

Her girlfriend scowls in response but when Faith clears her throat and the two realise they have company, her grin is wider than Vanessa’s ever seen it. A hand is reached out towards her and she goes without question, dropping the bag of treats on the side table before leaning in and letting Charity kiss her gently. 

“Thank Christ for that!” Chas groans beside them, gathering the cards up where they’ve scattered across the sheets. “She’s had a face like a slapped backside since you left.”

Vanessa chuckles as Charity glares back at her cousin, stroking a hand through her curls to try and stop her reaching out to swat at Chas.

“Well, she’ll be even more delighted when she finds out I’ve brought back all my Spice Girls posters and potted plants to decorate her room.” Vanessa deadpans. Chas beams back at her, the two of them bursting into laughter when Charity’s expression morphs into outrage. 

“Oh no, go ahead, take the piss out of the wounded one. You’ll get yours!” 

Vanessa just grins at Chas and nods, the brunette rising to meet her mother at the foot of the bed. “Come on you, you can buy me a coffee for putting up with this one.”

Faith links their arms and grins at the couple before she’s dragged out of the ward.

Vanessa presses her lips into Charity’s hair and waits until she can feel shoulders properly relax against her side. 

“Am I safe to assume all my clothes are yours from here on out?” Her voice is still hoarse but it sends a warmth through Vanessa anyway. Everything feels easier now, like being back in Charity’s space is her coming home. 

“Don’t worry.” She pulls back and feels something tug violently in her chest at the look in her girlfriend’s eyes. She can name it now, she’s brave enough now. “I’ve brought plenty of my _fluffiest_ jumpers for you to steal.”

To her credit, Charity does her best not to grimace for once and Vanessa chuckles as she runs a finger over the visible worry lines on her forehead. “Kidding.”

They sit in silence for a while, Vanessa eventually easing down until she fits snugly against the blonde’s right side. She knows they’ll get stern looks from the nurse but she can’t find it in her to care when Charity twists their fingers together above the blanket.

“Are you alright?” It only needs to be a whisper with the blonde this close.

“Course, got you back _and_ I saw that bag you brought in with you -”

“Charity.” Vanessa chides. 

Charity sighs next to her but squeezes firmly where their hands are still joined.

“I’m alright.” She reassures. “I think some part of me will always worry that he could come back, take it all away from me. Everything I have.”

Glassy eyes meet Vanessa’s as Charity lifts their arms to place a kiss to her knuckles. 

“But I don’t want to waste my time fearing the worst every day, especially now.” Vanessa smiles back at her, floored by the way her eyes are so open, so unguarded, despite _every_ ounce of torment that used to swim behind them. She’s in love with this woman. This beautiful force of a woman.

“Good.” 

“Now, the bag…”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charity adjusts to life back at the pub with a little help from Vanessa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Think it's safe to say this week's been a rollercoaster where our gals are concerned. I was supposed to end the story here but with all the stress of the cheating s/l I decided against it. Here's some mostly soft vanity to keep you going before ED's drama ensues. Twitter: bee_kudo.

There’s moments every now and again, where it catches her off guard. This feeling. 

Charity’s only been upstairs for half an hour, yet it’s almost like Vanessa doesn’t feel fully herself. It’s weirdly alike to the feeling she’d get whenever she left it too long without eating, wrapped up in whatever coursework she had at the library or too hungover to move until the late afternoon. That sort of empty ache, her body reminding her that it was missing something. 

Now, walking around the room, tidying the coffee table from last night’s film night, filling three mugs with boiling water in the kitchen, it’s there.

She finds it funny that now she’s finally at peace with herself, finally accepting of who she is and how she’s got there, knowing where she’s heading, it’s _now_ that her mind and body crave someone _else_ to feel their most alive. But that’s just it. Life would go on, she’d have a fulfilling career and probably a happy little family of her own with or without Charity. But Vanessa knows that there’d always be a part of her heart left undiscovered; her days a little dimmer, her nights a little quieter. 

Nothing would compare. Not really. 

She’s making her way back to the kitchen after delivering a brew to Chas at the bar when she stops short, a twinge pulling at her side and the sudden need to cry building in her throat. For a second, she indulges her instinct to panic, breath losing its rhythm as she climbs the stairs two at a time. When she reaches the bathroom door, she holds back. There’s still a lump in her throat that she didn’t put there, but she can’t hear any noise on the other side of the door. She knocks. 

“Charity?” 

Her breath isn’t held for long. There’s a muffled click and she watches as her bare feet are slowly bathed in light from the open gap. Stepping in carefully, her eyes immediately find who they’re looking for. 

Charity is sat with her back to the bath, towel wrapped haphazardly around her shivering frame. There’s droplets of water all over the floor and some of the blonde’s hair is wet, darker in places where the water’s touched it. Behind her, Vanessa can see bottles strewn across the bathtub. The pieces slowly start to fit together. 

She shuts the door quietly and kneels in front of her girlfriend, moving damp strands behind her ear, leaving a hand to rest along her jawline. Charity leans into the contact while Vanessa tries to decipher between the tears and water on her cheeks. 

“Do you need your tablets?” The words are barely audible over the sound of the showerhead steadily dripping onto the porcelain. 

She knows the answer before the blonde shakes her head, pausing before leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her temple and lifting on her haunches to twist the tap back on. There’s a tingle along her side where Charity’s watching her as she places each bottle back along the edge of the bath and stretches to grab the shower attachment down.

Waiting until the water runs warm, she lets her gaze return to questioning eyes. 

“Head back.” 

It’s not a command, Charity knows that. It’s Vanessa asking for an okay, a confirmation of trust, which she willingly gives as she eases her head back to rest in her girlfriend’s hand. 

They’re on the second lather of shampoo when Vanessa tests the waters. 

“Too soon to try on your own, maybe?” She murmurs, hoping it carries no trace of patronisation. 

Charity’s previously shut eyes inch open to look up at her. Vanessa smiles back as she lets her left hand glide through the hair, sweet smelling suds twirling away down the plughole. 

“Just pulled it, the shower gel was right at the back.” The blonde mumbles. “Blame Chas... moving my stuff.”

Tapping the lid of the conditioner on the bath to clip it shut, Vanessa spreads it through long locks, revelling in the way her girlfriend’s eyes flutter shut again as she lets her nails scratch at the base of her skull, massaging it in. 

“You know it’s alright to need help for a bit. No one was expecting you to magically heal after a few days.”

Vanessa knows why. She knows that Charity has had to piece herself back together, feed herself, dress herself, clean herself - her wounds - time and time again. Never with the option to ask for help.

But her pride has been dented enough. Too much for Vanessa to make her feel like a victim, no matter the circumstances, she won’t tread that line.

It must get somewhere. Charity sighs and lifts one of her cool hands to rest on Vanessa’s leg, fingers splaying out to play with the hem of her denim shorts as the last of the product is rinsed away. 

“I know. I just needed to try.”

Helped to her feet, Charity stands patiently while Vanessa uses a clean towel to pat dry the soaked ends of her hair, swiping at the last few stubborn droplets attached to her back and chest. 

She looks tired and for a second, Vanessa struggles to resist the urge to bundle her in her arms like a kid fresh out of a swimming pool. Instead, she drags the bathmat across the floor with her foot to dry the glistening tiles before guiding Charity towards the bedroom.

They’ve been back less than a week, but the blonde still has moments where she looks almost vacant. Like she’s lost somewhere, finding it hard to come back. Vanessa thinks she understands, from the way Charity looks around her room every few minutes. It’s as if she’s double checking all of the things are hers, from the stack of tapes on the chest of drawers to the overflowing laundry basket.

She may have been here two years, but it can’t be difficult to envision her first week in that room. Vulnerable, bruised, disbelieving. 

Vanessa eases Charity to her side of the bed, letting her shuffle under the covers while she plugs the hairdryer into the socket for her bedside lamp. She’s combing through the tangles, eyes finding the few small familiar marks across her shoulders when her girlfriend speaks again.

“Ness?”

She hums in response, working gently at a determined knot while she waits patiently for the blonde to continue. 

“What happens now?” It’s a mumble; nervous. “Do you go back? To Leeds...or to your mum?”

She’s thought it through, almost every day since Charity’s been home. The last place she wants to be after the few weeks she’s had, is back in that lifeless kitchen eating dry chicken and green beans with her mother. Being stared down after no communication, after they left things the way they did.

It’s not an option. Not yet, anyway.

Then there’s Rhona, living in their flat for two more weeks until she moves out to a farm further east as a student apprentice. The plan was for Vanessa to find somewhere nearby, before her exams, to set her up for the summer. That had gone out of the window as soon as she’d walked into this pub.

“I’m not sure. I was supposed to be working...just hadn’t really figured out where.”

Suddenly Vanessa has the horrible feeling that her assumptions have led her astray. She presumed she’d have enough time to sort things out, or at least in the meantime, Charity might want her around before she winds up stuck in a barn outhouse somewhere in a muddy field. 

Trying not to linger on the possibility that she could be wrong, she flicks the switch on the hairdryer and lets her fingers slip through Charity’s damp mane. She’s only one section down when she starts to feel hot, the blistering summer temperature and the dryer combined nicely with the fact that she’s beginning to work herself into a panic.

The dryer is switched off in her hand, not having registered her girlfriend’s attempts to get her attention.

“Ness.” 

Half a head of dry hair, splotchy cheeks and eyes a little red, Charity continues to be the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. She nods.

“Stay here. I mean...if you want to.” There’s soft fingertips at her chin and she feels her heart calm and jolt all at once. “I think Faith knows I’d have you here whenever I could anyway. Just might mean you don’t have to go to your mum’s if you don’t have anywhere else…”

“I love you.”

Charity startles at the interruption but a bright smile replaces her nervous one as she laughs.

“I know, idiot.” She pauses. “I love you too. At least enough to keep you around if you’re up for it..” 

Vanessa shoves at the blonde’s shoulder when she winks but she knows from the tug in her stomach that the question is real for Charity. What she wants to say, really, is that as long as she makes Charity’s heart happier and her life a little easier, she’ll stay forever.

But she can give as good as she gets.

“Well, this _soulmate_ gig doesn’t seem too bad I guess. Besides, suppose it’s a bit late to trade you in now anyway.”

Her eyes must give her away, because the hand that reaches out doesn’t shove her back. It wraps around her neck and pulls her in. As long as Charity kisses her like this, she’s not going anywhere.

\-------------------------

It’s on her fifth pint where she finally manages to get the technique down. Chas had looked on with uncertainty as the head on the first four had gradually gone from half the glass to almost perfect. Vanessa, never being one to do anything by halves, had insisted on serving every single one of the pre-lunchtime punters until she’d got it right, turning to hold her final masterpiece in the air and beam at the others until a cough reminded her that the pint was actually intended _for_ someone.

When she moves to collect the man’s change from the till, she catches Charity watching her, still sat obediently in her spot in the corner booth after the three of them had warned her she wasn’t allowed behind the bar. To her credit, she’s only moved in the past hour to refill her pint glass with lemonade, and only when Vanessa’s been too busy to notice it’s empty and do it for her.

Vanessa knows that behind the grumbling, her girlfriend is thankful for the respite. She’s not been sleeping properly, tossing and turning as much as her body will allow, groaning in pain when she mistakenly tries her left hand side. Most nights there are murmured apologies in Vanessa’s ear, but she just reaches a hand out to stroke through bedraggled waves until she hears Charity’s breathing even out.

Faith is busy telling them about a sale at one of the typically middle-aged disaster shops in town, Chas pulling exasperated faces behind her back, when the sound of a haughty laugh bellows through the doors. All eyes turn towards the newest customers, each of the women already attempting to telepathically argue who’s going to serve.

Moving from her place leaning against the bartop, Chas pulls half heartedly at a pump before throwing her hands in the air. “Oh no, barell’s gone, _nightmare..._ I’ll do it.” Then she’s off, heading towards the cellar before veering to the right and dipping into the back room instead.

Vanessa doesn’t even have to look at Faith to know that she’ll be avoiding eye contact, low and behold swiping a cloth over the perfectly clean tables while Charity looks over at her, conflicted. As the blonde seems to make up her mind and shuffles along the booth, Vanessa plasters on her fakest smile and turns to face the men, pausing her girlfriend’s rescue mission.

“Gentlemen, what can I get you?” It’s the same voice she uses with her mother now she’s older; try-hard, deceptive.

They’re obviously a father and son, both clad in pristine Barbour jackets, leather gloves sticking out of their pockets. It’s like a pair of royal family rejects have got lost in the Dales. All they need is some rifles and tobacco pipes and they’re set.

The younger of the two is slimy. Vanessa can tell from just looking at his permanent sneer and oily t-zone that this isn’t going to be pleasant. He leans forward with one elbow resting on the bar top, eyes resting a few seconds too long where her jumper is tighter around her chest before he finds the decency to look up.

“Gentlemen?” He raises a thin brow. “That’s more like it. I told you there’d be some Northerners we’d get along with Dad.” Winking in her direction, he taps at his father’s arm. The older man turns from evaluating the pub, eyes turning a considerably darker shade of creepy when he notices Vanessa.

“My my, they have got some totty around here after all.” 

For a second, she’d been naive enough to believe that age would have surely knocked out of him whatever it is his son seems to be riddled with. Obviously, she was sorely mistaken. Vanessa resists the urge to gag and busies herself grabbing two glasses when they request ‘ _two pints of your finest for England’s finest’_. 

Pulling on the tap for their most expensive ale, she feels something low in her chest, a feeling that anyone else would mistake for pain. Chancing a glance to her left she finds her looking straight back. Charity’s silently seething, eyes boring holes into the side of their heads. Gulping back her sudden anxiety, Vanessa brings the second pint up onto the bar in front of them, only catching the end of what sounds like a sleazy comment about the quality of her ‘head’.

From the blinding heat that soon fills her lungs, she knows Charity heard it loud and clear.

Quickly realising she needs to get rid of the pair before her wounded girlfriend starts anything, Vanessa clears her throat and steels herself. “Four thirty-five, please.”

The way he licks his lips in response makes Vanessa impressed she hasn’t lamped him herself yet. Full to the brim with audacity, he raises his own hand to cover hers where it rests on top of the pump, squeezing just tight enough for her not to be able to snap her hand back. The heat is almost suffocating now, but she stands her ground.

“Oh sweetheart, bit steep for two pints for your favourite boys.” He removes his hand, only to lean in closer. Vanessa steps back on her heel, angered herself at the way his grin only grows with her resistance.

“You asked for our finest, quality comes at a price unfortunately.” Her voice is steady.

Evidently displeased with the way Vanessa won’t play his game, his lip curls and she watches as he makes the decision to get what he wants, decency be damned. He won’t be sacrificing his pride.

“Tell you what, a little fumble round the back and I’ll round it up to an even ten.”

That does it.

The memory of their first encounter sears through Vanessa’s mind as the pain reaches her throat. The glass smashing against the bar, Charity’s blood on the floor, her mum dragging her out before she could say anything, ask if she was okay, help her.

Charity’s almost on her feet, one leg out of the booth and eyes black when Vanessa’s voice sounds low and sharp, hard eyes never leaving his.

“Charity, don’t.”

He looks confused for a moment until he glances around, quickly noticing the blonde return to her seat, gripping the edge of her table in the corner so hard it could split the wood. Hearing no footsteps, Vanessa’s heart thuds violently at the show of trust and respect. It gives her the last drop of determination she needs. 

“Listen,” her voice is louder now, confident as his head whips back to her, “I understand that you think your _slightly_ above average looks mean your insufferable personality doesn’t matter. But in this case, I couldn’t care less about either.” 

Quiet footsteps behind her signal Chas has come to investigate. Vanessa pauses for breath before stepping closer to the bewildered looking men.

“You see boys, I’ve got a goddess for a girlfriend, who is currently doing her utmost not to deck you both seeing as she’s recovering from surgery.” She steps closer again, leaning both arms against the bar. “But I have two working fists and a paper thin patience so the ball’s in your court.”

There’s silence, all except for two of their regulars in the back who chuckle amongst themselves as the stunned duo look awkwardly at each other. Deciding against pushing their luck, they reach for their pints, the younger slamming a fiver on the bar top before muttering under his breath.

“Fucking Northern birds, all lunatics.”

As the door to the beer garden swings shut behind them, a voice from one of the back tables shouts out.

“Ey up, someone get that lass a drink on us.” A wave of laughter rolls out amongst the locals and Vanessa finds herself grinning as she turns back towards the barmaids, all three of them with eyebrows nearing their hairlines.

“Thought you were supposed to be the _calm_ to her storm!” Chas smirks as she nods towards Charity. “Apparently not. Hey, got a job going as a bouncer on the weekends if you’re interested?”

Laughing, Vanessa grabs the note from the counter and passes it to Chas, rounding the bar as Faith moves to pull her a well deserved pint. 

When she reaches the booth, she leans up against it, skin burning with the way Charity’s watching her like she’s the only one in the room. Her hands feel clammy at her sides as she starts to wonder if she’s suddenly become completely naked.

“Put your eyes back in your head before we get a bollocking for public indecency from those two.” Vanessa murmurs. 

Charity’s gaze doesn’t drop, grin filthy.

“How long did that doctor say…”

“At least ten days Charity, and don’t even _think_ about trying your usual because it’s not going to work, you have _five_ days left.” She can’t help but smile when her girlfriend’s eyes roll back in her head. “Get a hold of yourself.”

The blonde groans in annoyance and hooks a hand into the neck of Vanessa’s jumper, pulling her down until their lips are brushing. She can feel her pulse pick up as Charity’s breath mingles with her own, barely managing not to fold under the crippling desire to cave. 

“What’s happened to _my_ Ness? You know, the one that melts every time I touch her...” As if proving her point, Charity drags blunt fingernails across the skin on Vanessa’s neck and it sends shocks down her spine until each hair is standing to attention. 

But she’s on a roll. So she inhales slowly before backing up enough to watch the emerald dance across blown pupils.

“She realised she needed to get a grip because if she gives in every time you so much as look at her, she’s not going to get anything done for the next fifty odd years.” She whispers.

Frustration faded, Charity’s eyes glaze over at the last few words, her expression so content that it makes Vanessa’s lungs swell with a pleasant ache. Soft lips are pressed to her own briefly and they ignore the wolf whistle sounding somewhere in the background. Vanessa moves to pull away, the lunchtime rush about to pour in, but fingers threaded through her hair keep her grounded to the spot.

“You’re gorgeous and I hate you.”

The frown is set but the eyes tell a different story. Vanessa just chuckles before freeing herself from the hold and ambling back behind the bar.

“Love you too.” Her hand disappears below the counter for a second before she sends a bright green cloth flying through the air to the blonde’s lap. “Now, make yourself useful.”

\-------------------------

It makes more sense to Vanessa now, being here, like she couldn’t have possibly belonged anywhere else. 

All the years under her mother’s thumb, feeling like a guest in her own home, no big family, no lifelong friends, no place. The only thing that was her own was something she couldn’t even understand. University was supposed to be her light at the end of a long tunnel, the marks fading, friends who seemed to genuinely like her, being told she was actually good at something instead of berated for her every move. It was just a bonus that her mum finally had a good word to say about her.

But now, sat at a wonky dining table with three of the most fearless women around, each slowly nursing a drink, she realises that _this_ is how it’s supposed to feel. Empty dinner plates nudged to the side while they gossip about the locals, there’s not a muscle in Vanessa’s body that isn’t relaxed. 

When she takes a second to think about it, her age-old habit of putting certain parts of herself into boxes, hidden away for fear someone would pick them apart, that’s gone here. Gratitude and disbelief creep up into her throat until she feels a sting behind her eyes, but before she can worry about ruining the atmosphere, a protective hand curls around her knee, resting as though it’s always been there. 

Charity continues her verbal assault on the new questionable hairdo of the shop assistant as though she hasn’t even realised she’s moved, but the gentle squeeze against her skin settles Vanessa instantly. She can see Faith’s eyes on them from across the table, smile soft at the constant contact between the two. Normally she’d except to feel embarrassed, have to attempt to hide a furious blush at the attention. 

Not now. She’s proud now.

Once she’s learnt all about the local GP’s affair last year, Paddy and Chas’ disaster of a first date and the family trees that make her head spin, it’s almost midnight and Vanessa feels as though she might as well have always been here. Glancing to her left, she watches as Charity’s eyes blink a little slower, her back slumped further down into her seat. The painkillers will be wearing off by now.

“Thank you, ladies, for giving me all the inside info.” Chas grins back at her while Faith downs the dregs of her wine. “I can’t tell whether I’m excited or more scared of this village now than I was before.”

Quiet laughter peels around the table as she reaches to scratch gently at the back of Charity’s neck, heart swooping low when her girlfriend leans heavily on her hand, eyes closed peacefully. 

“I think I need to get this one to bed though.”

“You sure she’s not already asleep?” Chas questions, smirking at the sight of her cousin. 

“Shut up.” 

It’s a quiet mumble and her eyes don’t open but it still brings a smile to Vanessa’s face as she removes her hand and slips it down until it reaches Charity’s.

They take the stairs in easy silence, the blonde following dutifully into the bathroom so Vanessa can place her toothbrush in her hand. The domesticity of it all isn’t lost on her as she watches them side by side in the mirror. They’re barely twenty-somethings and have only technically known one another a few short weeks, yet nothing feels more normal than passing each other pyjama tops and picking their respective sides of the bed to slide into. 

Charity’s nose is buried into her collarbone, breathing restful as Vanessa stares up at the ceiling, fingers caught between strands at the blonde’s back and careful to avoid the fresh bandage covering her side.

“Something tells me this isn’t going to be our last hurdle.” She murmurs. “Would be too good to be true, wouldn’t it.”

Soft lips press against her skin when Charity replies, hands gripping tighter at Vanessa’s hip bones under the sheets. Her voice is laced with sleep but her words are true. With everything they’ve faced alone, fought for, _lived through,_ she’d take both of their pain a hundred times over if it meant ending up here.

“Nothing worth it is ever easy, babe.”

\-------------------------

Something’s buzzing, somewhere above her head, something’s buzzing. 

Vanessa uncovers the arm that isn’t trapped under the sleeping body next to her and pats around the bedside table until she finds it. She hasn’t even fully opened her eyes when she clicks what she hopes is the green button.

“Hello?” She croaks.

“Vanessa, would you like to explain to me why you’ve received a letter from your university -”

No. _No. No, no, no, no._

“ - detailing your opportunity to retake four missed examinations.” The familiar voice is bitter and biting cold. 

“Mum…” Charity stirs next to her. Her eyes flicker open gradually, shifting from dazed to fearful when they take in the drawn expression on Vanessa’s face.

“Vanessa, _where_ are you?”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fallout from Vanessa's early morning call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we're getting veeery close to the end here my dudes. Hopefully the next update after this will be on time, but I have an operation in 2 days so we'll see how good my bed-bound writing is. It's not the best of weeks, not helped by the vanity ED content, but I'm hoping this is helping you as much as it's helping me to write it. You're all lovely and just the best. Always on twitter to send classic gifs to: @bee_kudo. 
> 
> PS. The Sean Connery reference was unintentional - rip my good man.

There’s only white noise in Vanessa’s ears until a cautious hand comes to rest on her arm, barely touching the downy hairs but tickling just enough to catch her attention. 

“Babe -” Charity starts.

“I just panicked.” 

Her phone is resting on top of the duvet where she’d discarded it quickly, laying there with a blank screen as if nothing’s happened, all the while her heart hammers on like a toy drum. Charity’s hand tightens ever so slightly around her wrist and she turns automatically.

Faced with her sleepy blonde, sat there with her concerned smile and awkwardly crossed legs sticking out of the sheets, the hammering slows a little easier. 

“I hung up.”

Her own voice sounds surprised, like she wasn’t the one to hit the button.

“Yeah, I gathered that much.” The pulse in Vanessa’s wrist seems to follow the circles Charity’s thumb is drawing against the skin, it makes her smile for a second. “Do you wanna tell me why?”

“She knows I’m not at uni, my resit letter came…” the thumb pauses, “I just, I haven’t spoken to her since I came to find you. I don’t even know where I’d start.”

It’s never been through lack of trying, this inability to communicate with one another. When she was younger it had started as a ‘ _speak when you’re spoken to’_ kind of deal. Somewhere along the line it had crept into secretive territory, between the silver threads across her stomach and the mark across her shoulder that had appeared a few weeks later. It was no longer just how her day had gone or what she wanted for Christmas that her mother had no interest in.

She’d covered up every summer, sweltering in long sleeved t-shirts and jeans until eventually they stopped appearing.

“Does she know you’re here?” Charity’s voice sounds worried and pangs low in Vanessa’s gut. 

" _No_.” She reassures quickly. “No. Well at least I don’t think so, she has no reason to think I’m here. I could be in Timbuktu for all she knows about my life.”

“Eh,” Charity shrugs, “we could probably manage Mallorca, _Men_ orca even, if I covered some of Faith’s shifts.” Vanessa grins back at her as she narrows her eyes playfully. “Timbuktu’s a bit of a stretch.”

She collapses against the blonde’s shoulder, groaning out a sigh as cool fingertips come to play with the flyaways around her temple.

“How does she _always_ do this?” Charity just hums into her hair, carefully pulling her back until they’re cocooned amongst the pillows again. “She always finds a way to burst my bubble.”

It’s not like finding Charity was going to fix everything, she should never have gotten that idea into her head. From day one, having a soulmate hadn’t made anything _easier._ For a long time, she’d resented it. Why couldn’t she just be that girl from school who ends up living round the corner in a big detached house with her Ken doll husband and their pristine children, writing housekeeping columns in the local newspaper that no one reads except the women who only go to Weight Watchers for the social.

There’d been hundreds of times that idea had crossed her mind. Surely it would be simple to bottle every scar, every memory of them, tuck them away somewhere so hidden that she’d never remember where to find them. Then she could put more effort into interacting with the ‘nice young lad’ her mum kept mentioning, the son of one of her overly-permed friends from church. 

She’s fairly sure he’s married now, lovely little nuclear family in an estate not far from her secondary school. 

They’re far from nuclear, wrapped up in each other like this; living in a pub, spending their days watching one another over a bartop and their nights crying out into the heat of each others’ skin. Hardly the pleasant, unproblematic little family her mum had hoped for.

The idea of trying to slip seamlessly into that nice little mould her mum has for her now, it’s laughable. How could she ever believe that she should be anywhere but with Charity, force herself to live with someone who doesn’t know her moves before she makes them, someone who doesn’t understand how she’s feeling without even being in the same room. 

Now, watching the way Charity’s hand fits easily in the curve of her hip, instinctively knowing how to calm and reassure the body against her own, she knows that the very thought of it is daft. There’s no replacement for Charity, and she doesn’t want one. 

“Seems to be her favourite pastime, babe.” Charity’s chest rumbles under her ear. “Lucky for you, aside from exceptional sex and being hysterically funny, mine is making milky tea at the crack of dawn for beautiful women...”

Vanessa leans up on her elbow, brow raised in waiting. 

“...woman.” Charity corrects.

“Better.” She pecks the blonde’s lips gently and eases herself out of bed, reaching for a pair of Charity’s joggers abandoned near the laundry basket. “And it’s gone nine, you better get the kettle on.”

\--------------------------

A few days pass with little change. Each morning, they wake to the sounds of the village coming alive, Vanessa finding odd comforts in the scrape of the veg crates being lugged out to the front of the shop and the way she recognises the sound of the drayman’s tyres on the gravel outside.

Charity is always twisted around her in some form, be it an arm secure around her waist and warm feet tangled together or her mane of hair splayed out across Vanessa’s chest. She knows some positions must be causing grief for her girlfriend’s side but it’s pointless moving her, she always gravitates back.

They race whichever Dingle isn’t on the early shift to the bathroom, ignoring comments about steamy handprints and instead settling Charity onto the lid of the toilet seat so Vanessa can clean the scar and change the dressing. She doesn’t tell the blonde that she’s brave, even when she doesn’t hiss in pain or flinch at all, because she knows Charity feels her pride anyway. It’s confirmed every time a hand slips under her dressing gown and holds the fading scar along her own ribs. 

When Charity is eventually let back behind the bar to pour pints, Vanessa watches her like a hawk. 

“Don’t even think about it.” She calls from her spot clearing Jimmy’s table, glaring at the back of her girlfriend’s head. Charity straightens up again, raising her hands in surrender when Chas takes the heavy crate of glasses from in front of her and tuts loudly as she makes her way to the kitchen.

For the most part, Charity behaves. She knows the more risks she takes, the longer it will be until they start treating her like a capable human being again. 

But each night, she puts Vanessa’s patience to the test. Dragging fingernails sharply across her bare leg, kissing the spot on the column of her neck that makes her shiver, wandering around the bedroom freshly showered in only a t-shirt, acting nonchalant while Vanessa’s hand itches under the covers.

It’s on the third night that she finally breaks. 

They’re curled up on the sofa as it closes in on one in the morning. It’s taken longer than usual for Charity’s painkillers to kick in and after trying to get comfortable in bed for almost an hour, they’d lugged the duvet down the stairs and resorted to one of Faith’s James Bond VHS tapes. Vanessa had watched those hazy eyes focus on the opening credits as she’d stirred the pan of milk on the hob, heart clenching at the dozy smile she got when she’d handed Charity her mug, her hair all unruly and frame small where she’d been lost in the cloud of blankets. 

Neither of them are asleep when they reach the halfway mark, Sean Connery’s voice softly filling the room and their hands intertwined under the warmth of the covers. Vanessa’s mind drifts from what’s happening on screen when she feels a tingle against her cheek. She turns to meet Charity watching her, eyes heavy with something she knows well. 

“Thank you,” the blonde murmurs, “for looking after me.”

Vanessa opens her mouth to speak but pleading eyes beg her to just accept the unnecessary gratitude. She stays quiet.

“I mean it, Ness. This would have been a hell of a lot harder without you.” Her voice is so soft that Vanessa barely hears her. “Well...everything would be harder without you.”

It always steals the air from her lungs when Charity looks at her like this, eyes dark, so relentless in the way they see every part of her at once. She feels her breathing shallow as she lets the feeling wash over her, nerves alight from head to toe. 

“You’re everything to me now. Only you.” It may be just a whisper but it still overwhelms her. 

Resistance is futile after all.

Vanessa doesn’t know who leans in first, but she doesn’t care when Charity’s lips claim hers so gently that she trembles. Everything gets stuck in her throat as they brush against each other, her bottom lip slowly released only to be taken in again, kissed like she’s something to be treasured. 

The film plays on quietly in front of them, a buzz of noise only accompanied by the rustle of fabric as they unconsciously move closer to one another. 

Both of them suck in shuddering breaths between each kiss and Vanessa’s slack mouth slips into a soft smile when Charity nudges their noses together before leaning in again. As much as she adores insatiable Charity, the Charity that pins her hands above her head and leaves no part of Vanessa’s body untouched by her tongue, this Charity is her favourite. 

The one who is gentle, who lets herself feel everything she never believed she could have. The one who would spend hours just kissing every visible patch of Vanessa’s skin or trailing fingertips across her bare body just to watch the goosebumps she gets in return. 

Something clicks easily into place when a delicate hand reaches out, sliding from her chin to her neck until Charity’s fingers are holding her in place, a thumb pressing into her jawline. She doesn’t need the prompt of the thumb that moves to her mouth, but gladly parts her lips anyway when the blonde tilts her head back, just enough to run her tongue along the bottom one. 

Everything is so slow but the sensation still hits her like a ton of bricks. 

So, Vanessa pushes the image of a fragile Charity out of her mind and focuses on the one making her hands shake and her heart constrict. She moves the hand that isn’t still linked with Charity’s across until it reaches the blonde’s leg under the blanket, running it along the inside of her thigh until she gasps into Vanessa’s mouth. 

That’s all it takes for Charity to deepen the kiss, fingers pressing into her throat, keeping her grounded. Vanessa goes willingly when she’s eased gently onto her back. The hand once holding hers now secure and guiding on her hip, she lets herself melt into the blonde’s body as she lays almost her full weight down against her.

Charity’s shaking. Vanessa almost stops them in their tracks to check she’s alright, but before she gets the chance, her girlfriend sits back up slowly, carefully pulling Vanessa with her. Feeling the tremor in her body when fingers slip under her t-shirt, she just lifts her arms in silent agreement as Charity pulls it lightly over her head and drops it to the floor below. 

Nothing will ever beat the way Charity looks at her all soft and full of emotion in the quiet moments. But this comes close. Pupils black, chest rising rapidly despite the tenderness of their movements. 

Love. That’s all she sees. 

And it’s all she feels when Charity dips a hand below the waistline of her pyjama trousers, touching her with such reverence and desire that it leaves her shaking until four words and the force of her orgasm hit her all at once. 

“I love you, Ness.”

\------------------------

Thursdays are never busy in the pub, but this is a new low.

The three of them are leaning over the bar, elbows propping them up, while they watch Faith attempt to beat a rowdy group of farmers at the world’s shoddiest game of darts, one by one.

Granted, she’s about five pints in on her day off, but that doesn’t stop Chas snapping at her every time she misses her aim completely and pierces yet another part of the clean wall surrounding the board. Charity and Vanessa almost choke on their drinks when one veers too far right, shooting straight through the fabric of what was once a lovely cushion.

“Mother! I beg you, please, stop wrecking the joint and admit defeat.” Chas whines next to them.

Faith spins on her heel a little too quickly, her entire body leaning off kilter for a second before she remembers which direction she’s supposed to be looking in. Her voice is so slurred, she may as well be speaking a different language. 

Vanessa can only elbow her girlfriend in the side when she sees her trying not to spit out a mouthful of her coke, all while steam pours out of Chas’ ears.

“Oh lighten’up Chastity, s’almost an even score now!” 

Charity eventually gets hold of herself enough to rub a sympathetic hand across Chas’ shoulders as she drops her head into her hands. She shakes her head slowly and mumbles something almost pained about having a teenager instead of a mum. 

“Aw c’mon Chas, she’s providing local entertainment. The boys look happy at least, keeps the pints flowing, till full and all that.” The blonde turns back to Vanessa, grimacing at her own attempt to diffuse the situation. 

Vanessa smirks back, opting for a different approach. She rounds the bar and starts clearing empties from the mess of tables the group has pushed together against the back wall. 

“Gentlemen, and Faith - apologies - from here on out, each round will cost you a drink, seeing as you’re so intent on destroying the furniture.” She’s met with a chorus of complaints but simply holds her hand out, embodying her intimidating year nine English teacher every time she wanted everyone to shut up without having to say a word. The shouts turn to quiet grumbling.

“Unless you want to fork out for new tables and have the pub shut for a week while someone redoes the plastering…” 

Silence. 

“Didn’t think so. Charity?” She glances over her shoulder to where her girlfriend is grinning from ear to ear. “Six pints, if you please.”

After half an hour of whooping and shouting, Marlon appears from the kitchen with confusion written across his features, a smile breaking out when he realises what the others are watching. 

“Oh, this, this is brilliant.” He pulls up a stool on the other side of the bar and cackles as Faith drops the dart she’s supposed to be throwing, twice.

“Faith, you actually have to get it on the board if you want points, love.” Charity calls over.

When she turns this time, she manages to stay on both feet.

“Oh aye, you want to come n’ show us what it’s all about?” The owner wiggles a dart clumsily between her fingers in suggestion. 

There’s challenge in the blonde’s eyes for a second before Vanessa sees a flicker of something else. She’d know that look anywhere. It’s the same one Charity gets before she steals the remote control, or her food, the same one Vanessa was faced with when interrupted mid-shower yesterday morning. Mischief. 

She points down towards her side, pouting. 

“No can do, can’t be wrenching my guts throwing those things around.” 

Vanessa knows exactly what’s coming as soon as those devilish eyes lower to her own, one brow raised. If only smug didn’t look so good on Charity.

“My little pocket rocket on the other hand…Ness? You’ll fight my corner, babe.” Her voice is low as she curls a hand around Vanessa’s hip. 

God, she knows what she’s doing.

Rolling her eyes and moving to unwind herself from Charity’s hold, Vanessa backs up a few steps before gingerly lifting the blonde’s knuckles to her mouth and kissing gently. 

“M’lday.”

While the group of men far too old to be called _‘boys’_ all jeer in excitement, she takes the bunch of darts from Faith’s hand and tries desperately not to let on that she is, in fact, despite two years of student life, horrendous at this. 

Luckily, her competition being six drunkards at least thirty years her senior, Vanessa’s not actually that far behind. She gets her first few all along the same side, one poking through the number eight which earns her a solid zero points and a few chuckles from her behind the bar, but after the holes left in the paintwork from Faith’s attempts, she doesn’t feel too bad.

As Ray takes his place in front of the board, flat cap askew and moustache covered in beer foam, she feels something edging in behind her. The anticipation still isn’t enough to stop the way her heart leaps into her throat when soft lips brush the shell of her ear.

“Drink for my champion.”

Charity bumps the rim of the glass against Vanessa’s hand until she takes it from her, too focused on getting rid of the blush across her cheeks instead.

“Much appreciated.” She mumbles, quickly realising Charity has already gone back to her place next to Chas, grin cocky.

She only gets two gulps down before she’s up again. She can do this. She can be cool, she can show them up. Definitely. 

Her first two darts hit the wood surround. 

Maybe not definitely.

“C’mon babe.” Charity tries to sound encouraging.

The third time’s supposed to be a charm but Vanessa has little faith in that theory, choosing instead to lock her knees, aim straight, screw her eyes shut and hope for the best. 

She nearly jumps out of her skin when shouting erupts through the pub. Opening her eyes, she can just about see it through the jumping and whooping of everyone around her, _her_ dart, slap bang in the middle of that tiny red circle.

“Holy _shit.”_ Vanessa barks out a laugh and turns quickly to find her girlfriend beaming back at her, holding out a hand to Chas who reluctantly hands her a five pound note.

Faith bundles her into a hug that smells like rancid ale and cigarette smoke but she’d rather _her_ than any of the blokes stumbling into each other around them. It goes on a tad too long and Vanessa goes to pull away, eager to take her turn being smug in front of Charity, but the sound of the pub door breaks through the noise of the group.

They’d almost forgotten they were still open. The voice has her hands dropping from Faith’s shoulders immediately.

“Thought I might find you here.”

\---------------------------

“Mum.” 

She’s not even looking at Vanessa. She’s busy taking in the glasses littering the tables, the decor surrounding the booths, the Dingles stood stock still behind the bar. Her parka is hardly necessary in the warm summer air but she’s always worn it come rain or shine. It’s covering one of her many cashmere jumpers that’s awkwardly tucked into a sensible pair of three-quarter length trousers. A pair of pale closed-toe sandals look completely out of place against the pub’s patterned red rug. 

Her hair is shorter. 

“Your hair is shorter.” 

Vanessa hates the way her voice sounds scared, immediately turning her head to seek out what will ground her. Charity doesn’t seem any more confident, eyes darting between mother and daughter until she catches her girlfriend’s gaze and smiles weakly.

“I’m not here for chit chat and a pub lunch Vanessa, get your things.”

Only then do cold eyes bore into her own, just for a second, before they move again.

“Boys?” Chas’ voice calls out quietly, thumb twisting out towards the door in signal. Vanessa watches her eyes bulge slightly when they don’t immediately get the hint and the sudden scuffle of feet around her sounds far louder than it should.

As they file out of the pub, she tentatively takes a few steps closer to the bar. The way her shoulders have hitched up around her jaw makes her muscles twinge but she manages to keep her expression calm.

“Why would I get my things? I’m fine where I am.” It’s stronger than before, a second glance at Charity making her feel a fraction more brave.

It’s quickly chipped away when her mother’s sour laugh escapes.

“Vanessa, I won’t tell you again. Get your things, and get in the car.”

She opens her mouth to argue again but Chas gets there first. One look at the brunette tells Vanessa that she at least has some backup. 

“She’s going nowhere unless she wants to.” The barmaid’s voice doesn’t waver. Not for a second. Chas moves a few inches forward, lips quirking at the sides when Vanessa’s mum takes a few steps back in response.

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Her mum switches her gaze to Charity and Vanessa feels her blood boil a little. “Either of you. I was talking to _my_ daughter.”

“And _my_ girlfriend.” Charity pipes up. 

Her mother recoils at the word, suddenly looking at the blonde as though she’s found something stuck to the bottom of her shoe. Vanessa can practically _see_ the venom rising in her throat, she’s had it one too many times before and she’ll be damned if she’s letting Charity take the brunt now.

“Alright.” She interrupts. “Mum, I’m not getting my things together, I’m not getting in the car with you, because I’m staying here where we both know I belong.”

The calm won’t last for long. Not with her mum’s indifferent glare skating over her, acting as though she’s the only irrational person in the room. As always.

“Belong!?” She scoffs. “Vaness-”

“ _No_ mum, you listen this time.” Vanessa raises a shaky finger and motions towards her mother’s chest. 

“You _know_ Charity’s my soulmate, somewhere in there you _know_ , you wouldn’t have reacted like you did unless you believed that as much as I do.” 

She knows she’s getting louder, _so_ unlike her immaculate childhood image. Years of pent up frustration, resentment, all burning her words on their way out. 

“And you’ve had _years_ to come to terms with it. You _saw_ what I saw, you knew she was out there somewhere -”

“The only thing I knew, is that that _girl_ should never be a part of your life. You see Vanessa,” it’s spat, no attempt to soften the blow, “sometimes the fates get it wrong, _horribly, inexplicably_ wrong. That _girl_ is more marked than anyone should be and we all _know_ why, we all _know_ how she got knocked up when you were barely thirteen -”

The room is warmer now, Vanessa can feel it in the way the sun splits through the blinds and the way her lungs burn. The words shouted across the room like they mean nothing when they mean everything to Charity, everything to the strongest woman she knows, now reduced to almost cowering in fear behind her cousin while her mother fumes. Vanessa’s hands tremble in anger.

“- we all know she’s been beaten about, the messes she’s probably got herself into, like every common street slapper -”

_“That’s enough!”_

It’s a scream. A real scream. The kind you don’t know you have in you until it’s out there. Stopping everyone in their tracks, eyes wide and stunned. Vanessa doesn’t care anymore. Charity can take of herself, but this is _her_ fight. For herself, not just for her person.

“You will never, _ever_ , understand what she has been through. Just like you’ve never even tried to understand me. You think I was too _blind_ to see that those homophobic comments you used to make about the neighbours were for me?”

A slither of pride works its way through Vanessa’s system when her mother leans away from her advance.

“Do not try to hide the fact that this makes you uncomfortable behind disgusting lies about a woman you will never know.” Planting her feet as close as she dares to get, Vanessa’s hands aren’t shaking anymore. “I am lucky to know her, and you would be too. But you will never come close. I only know what love is because of Charity, and I _pity_ you that you’ve clearly never had the same.”

“How d-” 

“Get out.” 

Her mother looks astonished, and Vanessa feels almost elated that it’s finally released, everything she’s felt under the thumb of this woman. But she can’t quite wrap her hands around the feeling when it’s under these circumstances. When it’s tearing apart someone who deserves none of it.

There’s no movement, just some sort of twisted stand-off. So she tries a final time.

“I told you to get out.” Her mother’s bag is hitched further up onto her shoulder in indignation. “Goodbye, mum.”

It does the trick, a furious blush and a stomp of her feet and she’s gone. For how long, Vanessa doesn’t know. 

How is she supposed to know whether or not they get past something like this? Maybe it was always going to end this way, for all she knows it’s the out her mother’s been looking for since Vanessa was old enough to open her mouth.

Right now, recovering the relationship she’s never really had, is not her biggest concern.

Spinning back to the bar, her heart sinks to her feet when she’s only met with one Dingle.

“Charity…”

“Bout halfway through, love. Not one for confrontation is our Charity.”

Vanessa picks up until she’s jogging around to the back. Chas calls out after her as she reaches the door to the living room. 

“Not her usual style. I’ll check upstairs but you go, call me when you find her, yeah?”

She doesn’t really register the way her head nods in agreement, feet already turning her in a direction unplanned. All she needs is to follow the insistent tug in her stomach. It’s all she’s ever needed.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final one, Charity and Vanessa decide where they go from here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is, the last one! Apologies for the delay, but turns out recovering from the op involved more sleeping than I'd anticipated. I'm sad it's over but so so grateful for all of the lovely comments and support from you wonderful lot! Big fat thank you to everyone who's read/left kudos/commented, I'll probably try writing some one-shots over the next few months but in the meantime, I'll be over on twitter with the rest, loving Charity's hoops and temporarily hating her decisions! @bee_kudo. xx

Charity’s only been to London once. Dragged around the streets that all looked the same, analysing the way those guards outside the palace never cracked a smile while the kids around her snapped photos with old disposables. She’d been allowed a cup of hot chocolate from a street vendor as compensation for the fact they couldn’t afford any of the teddies stacked together in rows in Hamley’s. 

They hadn’t stayed long as part of the tourist crowds. Her dad hadn’t been too fussed on doing all the things they were _supposed_ to, he preferred skipping Picadilly Circus and heading to the nearest pub where he could get a pint for under a fiver. She spent most of their forty-eight hours there sat on an uncomfortable wooden bench surrounded by old West End drunkards and men in tired looking business suits making the most of happy hour.

Yet her most vivid memory has nothing to do with her father, or the miles of extravagant shops she dared step a foot inside. What she remembers most clearly, is the smog. The heavy clouds that looked like they held thunder but smelt like petrol fumes. They way that despite the clusters of skyscrapers, it still felt like they were boxed in, cramped down by the weight of the low haze. That’s why the appeal that London seemed to have on those posh kids she went to school with, never actually hit Charity. Not when this was her other option.

As warm as the summer has been, come dusk, the Dales turn cool again. It’s no December frost obviously, but it’s enough for her to wish she’d brought something to cover her thin t-shirt as the sky turns a washy orange above her. 

Running was daft, she knows that, she couldn’t hide from Vanessa even if she wanted to and she _really_ doesn’t want to. But this is and always has been where she breathes the easiest. 

There’s something about the Yorkshire air that hits her lungs differently. It’s usually cold but she doesn’t mind. It reminds her she’s real, that she’s really here and not stuck somewhere she once thought she’d be forever. Sure it gets misty sometimes, bringing so much dew down from the sky that you can’t sit on the grass without wetting your jeans, but you can always breathe.

She picks at the long blades of grass that shoot up around her trainers, each snapping when she pulls hard enough, only to let them float back to the ground. A life full of fancy - the kind you could probably get easily in London - had sounded so exciting when she was young. Now she knows, sat here looking out over pastures and the tiny roofs of nearby villages, this life is plenty.

Her Uncle Zak’s farm had been across the way, she can still see some of the outhouses where she was allowed to play with her cousins, clambering over fence after fence until eventually they got yelled at by a bordering farmer. It had been one of the first places she’d come once she’d got out of that flat. All her memories of rolling hills and crisp country air had pushed her in Emmerdale’s direction as soon as she was out of his grasp. 

The farm had been empty, a ‘ _For Sale’_ sign leaning precariously over the front wall. She’d simply hiked herself up onto it and waited for a few hours, choosing to enjoy the sound of birds and distant cows. It was a welcome relief after getting used to hours of thumping music against the floorboards. It was only once she’d eventually tracked down Faith that she found out Zak and Lisa had moved a few towns over for a break from farm life. 

Things were peaceful now, for the most part. 

She’d never escape her past, be able to bury it away like it never existed. But here, she could live a peaceful life, one where she’s allowed to be happy and try to move on. Well, maybe not according to Vanessa’s mum.

Family and strangers calling her every degrading name you could think of, being pushed around from pillar to post, years of pain eventually turning into two years of _believing_ it when people tell her she deserves a good life. All of that and she’s taken down again by a two-foot tyrant of a woman in all beige. 

She’s angry; at herself, at Vanessa’s mum, at the world. Mostly herself. She stood there _silently_ and let some woman she doesn’t even know try to cart off the only person who means anything to her, then let that same woman rant on about what a terrible person she is, leaving Vanessa to fight her battles on her own. 

She was too scared to even stick around just in case Vanessa was going to turn to her and say _“Actually, you know what Charity, mum’s right, I’m too good for you, you’re a tart, see you later.”_

Balling her fists, she lightly punches the ground before sighing heavily at her own idiocy and resting her chin back on her knees. Like Vanessa would ever say that. That’s not who she is, and _this_ isn’t who Charity is either. Wallowing in the middle of bloody nowhere like a child because she’s too petrified that the one person who literally knows her every battle wound, will suddenly fall out of love with her and head for the hills.

“Oh, you’re an idiot.” She breathes into her hands.

The wind whistles above her and she can’t help but think it’s probably agreeing with her. Seems about right. 

For the first time, the sudden tug in her chest doesn’t surprise her. Vanessa’s not gone. 

She brushes her hands down the length of her jeans, wiping the shorter blades of grass from the top of her shoes and heaving herself up. Dragging fingers through her hair, Charity takes one last look at where the sun’s disappearing behind the valley and turns back towards the village.

The second sharp pull behind her ribs lifts her head to face the gate she’d left unlatched.

Slowing her steps until she reaches the open gate and looking at Charity with blue eyes full of worry, is Vanessa. She stands there, hesitant and anxiously bouncing on the balls of her feet, looking so desperately nervous that Charity feels herself deflate, hands falling limply at her sides.

She should never have doubted that Vanessa would show up, look for her, she knows that. But an overwhelming feeling of relief still floods through her system as she lets herself smile.

A few steps forward and a motion for Vanessa to come to her has her girlfriend sprinting across the field. 

The knock she’s expecting when arms grip around her neck and a head buries itself in her collarbone doesn’t come. Instead, Charity’s steady on her feet and is simply allowed to revel in the way her heart thuds once, resolutely, like it’s back in its place.

“I’m so sorry.” Vanessa mumbles into her skin. “She’s gone.”

Charity waits, listening to the sound of Vanessa’s breathing calm the longer she holds her. Then she presses her lips into golden hair and scratches where her hands meet over the wool covering Vanessa’s back.

“Don’t know why you’re apologising, I’m the one who legged it.” 

She grins a little when she feels a gentle kiss near her shoulder. “We’re alright, Ness.”

Charity was wrong about the Dales. Here, with Vanessa as close as humanly possible, this is where she breathes the easiest.

\---------------------

Charity’s front is warm where it connects with her back, but Vanessa can feel the goosebumps along her bare arms. She’d tried to persuade the blonde to come back to the pub but only got as far as the gate before Charity had silently pulled on her hand and spun her until they were both leaning back against the rickety post. 

She rubs her palms along the skin, eventually slipping Charity’s arms into her own jumper sleeves, resting both across her stomach once she’s satisfied. Her girlfriend’s hands wrap around her elbows under the soft wool, light fingertips scratching in acknowledgement. 

Comfortable silence isn’t something Vanessa had ever really experienced. It was always tense silence across a dinner table or in an exam hall, even awkward silence whenever she made a tit of herself at school. This, though, she’ll happily get used to. Watching the clouds turn saccharine shades of pink and purple, the backing track just some evening birdsong from across the field. Yeah, it’s not bad.

Her phone buzzes in her pocket where she knows a reply from Chas has come in, but she can’t bring herself to untangle their limbs yet. 

“You know those things weren’t true, the things she said about you, don’t you?” Vanessa murmurs, afraid of bursting their little bubble of peace.

Charity tenses around her for a second but doesn’t move, her face still mostly hidden in Vanessa’s hair.

“And you _know_ what I mean, so don’t start on the technicalities.”

The blonde kisses the back of her head and Vanessa notices the way she’s pulled that tiny bit closer.

“I know. I do. It’s just,” she pauses, “I’ve had enough people I love taken away from me because of who I was then, Ness. I think I just assumed for a second that this wouldn’t be any different.”

It’s a bit muffled but the arms around her waist don’t slacken at all. Vanessa thinks back to the babies, the family Charity’s lost. She’ll never be the reason for that kind of grief, not as long as she can help it. She speaks quietly.

“You forget that I _know_ you, just as well as you know me, and we’re both still here aren’t we?” 

Her own head moves with the nod that comes from her girlfriend. 

“No bullshit that could come out of my mother’s mouth about you would ever change my feelings, Charity. She’s not _right_ about any of it. She’s seen some of the scars, yeah, but she doesn’t understand. She wouldn’t even try to.”

There’s a billow of smoke coming from a chimney a few miles ahead, someone determined to light a fire despite the fact it’s almost the end of June. 

When she’d said she pities her mother, she’d meant it. A woman who never really got on with her own parents, got pregnant by a guy who never planned on sticking around and got lumped with a child she never wanted. If she did have a soulmate out there somewhere, she’d never tried to find them. Maybe if she knew what it could change, she’d have tried.

“How do I make you feel?”

Vanessa turns finally, bringing Charity’s warmer arms between them to keep the cool air out. The wind has picked up as the hour’s passed and strands of blonde hair fly around her girlfriend’s face, whipping around the green in her eyes which always stands out more when Vanessa’s this close.

There’s a long pause, the blonde twisting their fingers together over and over in different patterns while she seems to get lost in her own head. Vanessa waits. Like she always will.

Eventually a sigh parts her lips and she focuses properly on Vanessa.

“You know when you were a kid and Christmas was the most exciting day ever. Like, it wasn’t just about the presents... it was how your mum would put carrots out for reindeer and how you were already excited from all the teachers starting to show Christmas movies instead of teaching.” She grins a little and it warms Vanessa right to the pit of her stomach.

“It was always the one day where no one would _argue,_ you’d wait all year for it. And when you got up,” she breathes in sharply, “it was just a day where you knew nothing could touch it. From the stupid hour you got up, til you went to bed knackered, everything was different.”

Her eyes go cloudy for a second and Vanessa squeezes where their fingers meet.

“The food tasted better, every _daft_ song made you dance or sing along, even the shows you hated did alright TV specials. Then when you went to bed, you were happy still...but you were sort of...sad, because you knew you had to wait another year for that feeling.”

Charity waits then, searching Vanessa’s face until she nods and smiles gently to show that she understands.

“That’s what it’s like, how I feel about you.” She says it quietly but the way Vanessa’s pulls her brows together seems to urge her on.

“Every day is sort of like Christmas…” the blonde rolls her eyes at her own words, “ I just mean...everything’s better when you’re around. Everything feels different, like I’m not just getting through each day, I’m actually... living it. I guess, cos you’ve been missing this whole time...and now you’re, well, you’re not now.”

Vanessa's heart thrums happily in her chest as she leans more heavily into Charity, grin soft as she notices the way her girlfriend’s body shifts immediately to take the weight. 

“Well,” she starts, briefly pulling the blonde’s hands into her own, blowing hot air across cold skin, “I think you nailed it.”

Charity huffs out a laugh against Vanessa’s forehead, “Thanks, babe.”

But she’s not done. She knows that now, more than ever, Charity needs to understand it’s not as one-sided as she seems to think it is. Vanessa just needs to find a way of saying it that doesn’t scream _“I’ve already planned our wedding and bought us a bungalow in the suburbs.”_

Lifting her head from its resting place, she looks up at the eyes that make her dizzy and pauses for a second when she notices they’re tinged pink from the fading sky.

“Cards on the table, I really don’t know what it would feel like without you now. Not that I’d want to either.” Vanessa swipes carefully at an eyelash on Charity’s cheek, holding it out wordlessly until the blonde reluctantly closes her eyes and blows it away into the breeze. “It’s just, nothing settles properly until I’m in your space, and I could have gone my whole life never knowing how that felt.”

She brings one hand up to fix some hair behind her girlfriend’s ear, scraping her nails at the top of her neck for a second before she lets it just rest there. Charity’s eyelashes flutter at the motion.

“Yes, you also make me giddy and flustered and stupid sometimes,” she ignores Charity’s more comfortable smirk, “but mainly you just make me feel like I’m always in the right place, like you want to be around me as much as I want to be around you. Which is a lot...if you hadn’t gathered that by now. That and you just generally make me ludicrously happy...”

There’s a roll of the eyes which Vanessa was expecting but she knows by the violent pull in her own body that Charity believes it.

“Think we’ve outdone ourselves with the soppy confessions now babe, although I’m happy to delve more into this giddy, flustered lark you mentioned…” 

The blonde raises her eyebrows suggestively but Vanessa doesn’t let herself fall for it this time, she just laughs lightly and pulls on the back of Charity’s neck until cool lips easily cover her own. 

It doesn’t matter that her bulky jumper is sheltering her from the wind, she still shivers when Charity pushes gentle fingers through her hair, running just along the top of her ear until they anchor at the base of her head with enough grip to pull her even closer.

“Oi!” They pull apart slowly at the noise. Chas is standing at the bottom of the gravel track that leads to the field, glaring at them with arms crossed to protect herself from the chill.

“If you two could stop necking and check your phones every once in a while, that’d be grand, yeah? Marlon’s done dinner, toad in the hole, get a shift on before it goes cold. Me n’all.”

\---------------------

“Well, cheers for that Marlon, right tasty that was. Now,” Charity pats her full stomach and sucks in a breath ready to push herself up, “if you’ll excuse us, been a long day and I think Ness is angling for an early night…”

“Yeah right,” Vanessa laughs, “don’t go using me as your excuse to get out of the washing up.”

She pushes lightly at her girlfriend’s knee as she stands from her own chair, grabbing some empty plates and raising a brow at her before ambling over to the sink. The familiarity of it all warms her through to her toes.

“Got your number, she has, Charity.” Chas spins her wine glass carefully between her fingers and grins widely.

Vanessa waits, holding out a pair of flattering pink gloves until the blonde groans and drags herself over to her like a petulant teenager. She unwillingly takes the gloves from Vanessa’s hands and narrows her eyes, a disgusted frown working its way across her features when she slips a hand into the sweaty plastic. 

“Oh sweet Jesus, this is rank.” 

Vanessa tries not to laugh as hard as the other two, watching as her girlfriend wrinkles her nose and squirts an unnecessary amount of washing up liquid in the bottom of the sink. When she rubs a placating hand over her shoulder blades, Charity scowls back, it not quite reaching her eyes.

“I’d suggest you get yourself a pair of these on if you want somewhere to sleep tonight.”

Vanessa smiles softly until Charity’s frown disappears, she knows it’s an empty threat but she fishes a pair of gloves out of the cupboard anyway, collecting the last of the dirty dishes from the table.

“If you’re gonna make our Charity more useful, you can definitely stay.” Marlon announces from where he’s slouched in his seat, chef’s hat still placed wearily on his head hours after his shift ended.

Chas hums in agreement behind them before standing herself and making her way around the room, turning the big light off in favour of the smaller lamps placed across the dressers and windowsills. Both blissfully unaware of the way their suggestion makes her hands tremble slightly.

A low voice sounds next to Vanessa as the room slowly dims. Her tea towel pauses mid-wipe on a plate.

“Hear that? Apparently you can stay.” Charity doesn’t look up when she speaks, busy scrubbing at the bottom of an oven tray. 

Vanessa just finishes her drying and slides the plate into place on the shelf, hoping her voice comes out more nonchalant than jittery.

“Get myself a new toothbrush and some extra hangers then, shall I?” She’s only half-joking, waiting for evidence of any tension in Charity’s shoulders. 

When she glances sideways, there is none, even with how hard she’s scouring the pan, her frame is completely relaxed and there’s a grin pulling at the corner of her lips.

“Don’t know how we’d make room for all your cable-knits, babe.” Charity throws her a wink, making Vanessa’s pulse flutter in her neck before the pan slips out of her gloved hand and back into the sink with a splash. Covered in dirty dishwater, the blonde’s smile fades quickly, but Vanessa’s heart rate only quickens. She loves her.

“What _is_ the plan now, love? You lot get a summer break, don’t you?” Chas has migrated to the sofa, wine glass still in her hand, only the dregs left. Vanessa sighs, attempting to peel her marigolds off by the fingertips and struggling.

“Yeah, but I need to try and get some work somewhere, at least for a month or so. Otherwise I’ll be miles behind everyone else come September.” 

So much has happened over the last few weeks that Vanessa had almost assumed that little problem would sort itself out, naive enough to believe luck would be on her side and some well-paying farmer would appear out of thin air. 

Marlon pipes up from his place, trying desperately to get a tune out of his pint glass by running his finger around the rim. “What like, saving baby elephants in Thailand kind of work or -”

Vanessa snorts. “No, god no, more like saving baby chickens and cows with hemorrhoids in some dank barn out in the arse-end of nowhere…” 

Charity chuckles beside her at the image, earning a swat to the leg with the tea towel. The blonde yelps back and reaches out for the weapon when Chas interrupts.

“And you’ve not found anywhere? You do realise there’s about forty farmers at _least_ this side of Leeds?” She deadpans. Marlon joins in, his pint glass now discarded in the middle of the table in defeat. 

“Our Zak would find you somewhere, easy.” As he looks at her with a lopsided shrug, Chas nods easily behind him.

Vanessa turns to Charity, eyebrows easing into her hairline. “Forgot to mention that little tidbit, did we?”

Her girlfriend raises her hands in surrender, less effective when they’re covered in bright pink rubber. “Babe, not my fault, bit busy almost dying n’all that.” 

Vanessa’s ready this time, a crack sounding out where the damp tea towel meets Charity’s thigh. She goes to protest in pain but when she catches the unimpressed expression staring back at her, she seems to think better of it and rubs a soapy glove over the sore patch instead.

“That way you could always stick around, make the mistress of snark over there a little easier to deal with.” Chas’ remark stops Charity’s hand, bringing her eyes upwards to glare at her cousin for a second before she turns back to the sink, shaking and pulling impatiently at the gloves until they fall limply in the empty sink. 

“Okay fine.” She turns to face Chas. “ _Mistress of snark_ has finished the washing, your majesty.” 

“Ness,” her eyes soften slightly, “I _shouldn’t_ have joked about the dying stuff, I will _call_ Uncle Zak and I will _buy_ you a toothbrush...if you want one.”

The marigolds seemed punishment enough to Vanessa.

“What will Faith -” She starts.

“I think we all know Faith prefers _you_ over the three of us now, so, that won’t be a problem.” Chas grins broadly, feet propped up on the coffee table.

Vanessa smiles back at her, a warmth at her back as Charity steps closer to take her hand. It’s a little clammy from the gloves but she doesn’t mind. She sighs, content when she speaks.

“In that case, the pot wash staff are clocking out. Marlon, thanks for dinner. Chas, thanks for the wine. Charity,” she glances back, “let’s go.”

There’s no argument, as expected, just quiet goodnights and the blonde following closely behind her as she leads them out into the empty hall and up the stairs.

Vanessa’s spent a long time trying to be someone she’s not. A daughter her mother could tolerate, a friend others would always want to be around, even a student that teachers and professors would pick out of a bunch. Opportunities to understand herself had been lost along the way.

She could have gotten rid of all the pink junk in her bedroom and told her mother that she found their twisted, awkward routine _boring_. She could have taken more time for herself and said no when she didn’t want to do things for people who would never end up showing her the same kindness. 

She hadn’t realised how exhausting it was to keep up appearances until someone had shown her that she didn’t _actually_ have to. 

The way Charity looks at her when they reach the landing suggests she’s not been the only one.

“ _Shit_ , my phone.” The blonde pauses with her hand on the doorknob. “It’s on the kitchen counter, I need to call Zak.”

Vanessa reaches around her, easing the door open and pushing her across the threshold with a wandering hand across her hip. Charity’s gaze is questioning but she starts to smile.

“And I need to call Rhona. But it can all wait,” Vanessa hooks a finger under her girlfriend’s t-shirt, “until the morning.”

\---------------------

There’s a few on Charity’s back. Some of which she knows she must have had too but can’t remember ever seeing. The blonde doesn’t stir as she traces the marks with her index finger, lost to the land of nod and _ever_ so slightly snoring - Vanessa won’t bring it up in the morning. It’ll only be denied and frankly she quite likes the noise. It echoes a bit in her own chest on every intake and she likes the reminder that it’s all real.

It hurts a little to think about how much sadness and anger these scars used to bring her. Each one a little nick in her attempt to deny who she was, fuelling the all out battle in her own head day in and day out. 

Never really knowing who she was angry _with_.

It hurts more to remember all the wasted time where she wondered whether there actually _was_ someone going through that real pain, that anguish - all the nights that ended with a feeble decision that the idea was indeed just folklore like her mother suggested. 

All the nights Charity was suffering alone while Vanessa had poorly convinced herself, time after time, that Charity didn’t even exist. 

Nights she could have spent knowing Charity.

But now she’s here, she found it. 

Vanessa gets to wake up in the morning knowing what Charity looks like when she’s happy, she gets to wake up knowing the ways Charity comes undone that no one else knows, she gets to wake up knowing how it feels to be loved by someone so honestly that it makes everything inside her _ache_.

Most importantly, she gets to press her lips to the scars that are memories of pain and whisper over and over again into perfect skin that she _loves_ Charity.

And she gets to do it forever.

How lucky is she?


End file.
